Guide to Completion
by Aralas
Summary: AL SLASH. The heart of an elf prince longs to be whole, but a departed mother’s words and a broken gemstone are the only guides he has. The story is being REPOSTED with slight editions. Original plot remains. Apologies to those who have read it before.
1. The Beginning

_**Note**: Although the title of this story bears a resemblance to my other story Guide to Action, they are separate and unrelated tales._

_**Disclaimer**: All the characters in this story who are found in Tolkien's books stem from __his imagination and are his property. I am just borrowing them for this story, from which no money is made._

**WARNING: THIS IS SLASH. **

You have a choice to read this and accept it for what it is. If you cannot, I'd appreciate it if you left quietly, please. I HOPE YOU WILL NOT CHOOSE TO READ AND THEN WRITE HARSH FLAMES. But if you do, you are declaring yourself to be: (i) illiterate (or pretending to be), i.e., you did not understand the warning, or (ii) self-righteous (in which case, please take a look at your own morals first before trying to correct others – thank you very much.)

I have great admiration for Tolkien and his imagination.** If you have no objections to slash in another imagined story – hope you will enjoy this one. **

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**Summary:**

The heart of an elf prince longs to be whole, but a departed mother's words and a broken gemstone are the only guides he has. His search takes him to an unlikely person in unlikely places.

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**Chapter 1: The Beginning**

_I pray that my heart will be unbroken,_

_but without you all I'm going to be is_

_Incomplete._

_(From "Incomplete" by the Back Street Boys)_

**--xx00xx--**

Spring had come early that year, and the beautiful elf Queen thought she had never seen the world so green. She sat in contented peace at her favourite spot: on the grass next to a little lake, where tall beeches stood sentinel on one side and great bunches of colorful blooms ringed the edge, and the wind always sang a tale of all the events it had witnessed far away, in other places, other worlds.

But this was her world: the caves and trees of elven Mirkwood, her strong monarch husband, their two fine young sons, already grown to adult elfhood, and a third – an unanticipated but very welcome conception – still cocooned within her womb, but expected to make his appearance any day.

Her eyes, brilliantly azure like the perfect sky of this Spring day, shone with joy as she looked around. One hand reached up to catch a green leaf floating down to her on the breath of a breeze. As she did so, the babe within her moved, and she lay her other hand on her swollen abdomen. Studying the leaf, she spoke in a voice full of love and hope.

"You cannot see your world yet, my little one, but you shall soon join us, and you shall love the freshness of Spring and greet the birth of hope each year. You shall be as a green leaf to us. Join us soon, my little Legolas."

The sweet chirping of a bird flying far overhead in her direction caught her attention, and with the keen eyesight of elves, she saw that it was a finch. A smile curved her lips as she followed its flight till it was almost above her – and then she saw something shiny drop from its beak. It fell faster than a leaf, but more slowly than a heavy pebble – and it appeared to be heading straight towards her. Instinctively, the elf Queen reached out to catch it, and her waiting hands cupped around something hard and cool.

Fascinated, she uncurled her fingers to see a small object on her palm: a beautiful green gemstone, round at one end, with a distinctive jagged edge at the other, like a circular gem that had been broken in the middle, and within the stone, by some strange design – there seemed to moving streaks of light.

As she gasped in wonder, the babe within her stirred as well, and at that moment, a voice – from nowhere – seemed to speak to her:

"They are bound. As one seeks its soul mate, so will the other. It will be his guide to completion."

As soon as the thought was finished, Little Greenleaf began to move more restlessly than before, and the Queen's wonder grew. She shook her head in near disbelief, but some strange force seemed to read her mind, for the gemstone grew warm and the voice came back more strongly:

"It will be his guide to completion. Find no other!"

With shaking hands, and still in awe, the elf Queen carefully placed the small gemstone against the swell of her baby's home within her to see what might happen.

Till the end of her days in Arda, which came all too soon, she would unwaveringly affirm that she had heard it – the faintest, gentlest, most fleeting and most beautifully ethereal of sounds – but she would swear that she had heard her little Greenleaf sing.

Prince Legolas Thranduilion – with the golden hair of his Adar and the sapphire eyes of his Naneth - was born the very next morning, on one of the most gorgeous Spring days Mirkwood had ever seen.

--xx00xx--

The world of King Thranduil of Mirkwood had become dark and bleak, with a depth of sorrow he could not begin to describe.

Weak with grief, the only strength he seemed to have left he poured into the firm, desperate hold he had on the dying figure in his arms. Had it been possible to do so, he would have gladly given up his whole kingdom to save his beloved wife from the fatal wounds of an orc attack – a cruel assault upon a kind-hearted queen on a peaceful ride through the forest. Since she had been brought back to the King's Caves by the search party, the healers had tried every remedy known to them to stem the flow of blood and the effects of some fast-acting poison the orcs had used, but the call of Mandos was too powerful to fight, and in a matter of hours, both king and queen had come to accept that they would have to be parted. Not even the sorrowful weeping of their two older sons and the pitiful cries of their youngest – barely a year old – could stop the journey she was about to take.

"I will sail after you, meleth," the King said tearfully into the hair of the beautiful elf Queen. "I will seek you in the Undying Lands and beg Mandos to let me be with you!"

The King's sorrow deepened that of his two sons who were standing a little distance away, little Legolas in the arms of his oldest brother Thoronthalion. With the little strength she had left, the Queen hushed her husband and reached for his trembling hand. Thranduil felt something press into his palm, and he raised his tear-streaked face to see what it was. The king found himself looking at a green gemstone. He sought the sapphire eyes of the Queen and was nearly undone by the tears of anguish he saw in them.

"This is it? The Greenstone?" he asked thickly.

"Yes, my love," the Queen answered in a broken voice, trying to remain coherent. "When he is… he is old enough… tell him. And promise… promise me… you will make sure he finds it… his happiness…whoever… if the bond makes him whole... I bless it. That is why you… you must stay. Here, with him."

"No! We cannot be without you!" The King protested, devastated at the thought of remaining on Arda without his queen at his side. "Our sons will sail with me – "

"Nay, nay," the dying queen said frantically. "His destiny… our little one… his destiny is here. Arda. The voice – "

"It was just a voice!" Thranduil argued. "How do you know – "

"I just know," the Queen rejoined weakly. "I knew it then… I know it now. Bring him… saes, bring him here."

Baffled, but eager to grant his wife anything he could, he signaled for his eldest son to bring the elfling. The King raised his wife carefully into a sitting position as the babe was brought to her, so that he could be placed into her arms. The King's tears flowed freely as he enveloped his arms around mother and child, and watched with undisguised grief as the Queen's long hair fell onto the white arms of their youngest child and tickled him. Happy to be in his mother's arms, he gurgled and grabbed her hair in one chubby fist, looking up at her with the same blue eyes he had inherited from her. He suddenly caught sight of his father's golden hair, so like his own, and reached up with the other hand to grasp it as well.

With his parents' tresses clutched in both fists, and his round wondering eyes staring at them, the babe looked so adorable that the King and the two older princes smiled despite the gravity of the situation, and the Queen's laughter mingled with her tears as she bent to kiss the fair hair on the head of her precious child.

Gently, she closed his smooth, white fist around the Greenstone that had heralded his birth, and whispered into his ear, echoing the words that prophesied his destiny: "You are bound with it, my little Greenleaf. As it seeks its soul mate, so will you. It will be your guide to completion. Find no other."

Prince Legolas continued to gaze at her with the innocence of an unsullied heart – but this time, he did not sing.

Later that night, cradled in the arms of her devastated husband and two strong sons, and with her little Greenleaf cradled in her own, the Queen left the circles of Arda for the halls of Mandos.

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_**Note** to Jennifer and other unsigned reviewers for my other story, Guide to Action: Thank you, and hope you will follow this story too. _:)_ Jennifer - your request for a repost is being answered._


	2. His Mother's Son

**Chapter 2: His Mother's Son**

"Legolas!"

The sound of an elven voice, tinted with concern, floated through the air to the sharp ears of the youngest prince of Mirkwood, who was trying his best to stay invisible in the thick foliage of a tall beech. He kept as still as the branch he was seated on, knowing that he would have to descend the tree soon, but trying to stay up here for as long as he could.

After a moment, the voice stopped calling for him, and the golden-haired prince peered through the leaves at the clear blue waters of the lake below, feeling the same fondness for this quiet spot just as his mother had.

He did not really remember her, but the portrait of the family that had been painted after his birth told him that she had loved him dearly; the way she had held him close to her bosom spoke of the special place he had held in her heart. As an elfling, he had often found his _ada _sitting and gazing at the portrait for an hour or two, and as long as he was still young enough to not be embarrassed, he had quietly climbed onto his father's lap and studied the painting with him.

One of the things his father had pointed out to him during one of many such times together was the little green gem he had around his neck in the painting, that his mother had bored a tiny hole through and threaded on a fine chain of_ mithril_. When he was fifty years old and had come of age, his _ada _had explained to him the significance of the stone, and even though the King himself did not quite understand the full story, he impressed upon his son how important it was to heed what were among his _naneth_'s last words. As he grew older, the Greenstone did not hang around his neck anymore, but it was kept in a silk pouch in a drawer of his dresser. The King knew it might be many years more before Legolas even thought about seeking a soul mate, but the Greenstone was precious because of its link to his departed Queen, so if Legolas joined his father and brothers on one of their trips to the town of Dale, the pouch always traveled with him.

The Greenstone was not the only link Legolas had to his _naneth. _He loved this quiet place in the beechwoods as much as she had, and he could spend hours here by himself, doing nothing but paint and sing and talk to the trees and friendly beasts. Today was one of his many visits to this little refuge.

Moments later, he heard his name being called again, and then the tall figure of the Crown Prince Thoronthalion appeared at the edge of the lake.

Legolas sighed. He was almost 200 years old, but his eldest brother would still look for him before it grew dark, and if it wasn't Thoronthalion, it would be his other brother, or his father. They never forgot what had befallen the beloved Queen, and it did not help that Legolas was now one of the youngest elves born in Mirkwood, for it seemed that the passing of the Queen heralded the passing of an era for Mirkwood, when all had been rich and golden and fruitful.

"Time to come home, _tithen pen,_" his brother called, looking around and smiling, pretending as he usually did not to know where Legolas was hiding. "Don't worry, I won't look. Just come out from wherever you are – your hiding place is safe."

Legolas grinned and began his descent, knowing full well that his brother was aware where he was perched, but he liked the idea that everyone respected that this was his special place. As he adeptly jumped from branch to branch, his golden hair lifting lightly with the movement, he thought about how much his family loved him, and how carefully they took care of him, and he knew well that it was because he had been robbed of his mother's love too cruelly.

"I'm here," he said cheerfully as he approached his brother from behind, his steps on the soft grass leaving no trace of his passing.

The elder prince turned around and gave his brother a warm smile. "Time to come home, young one," he said, putting a protective arm around Legolas and ignoring the grimace from him at the term used to address him. "We're having an early dinner tonight."

Legolas' blue eyes sparkled as they began to walk back in the direction of the Palace Caves. "Why?" he asked. "Does _Ada _have particular plans for tonight?"

Thoronthalion smiled. "You might say that," he replied. "We are having visitors."

The blue eyes widened. "From where?" he queried. "How many? Will there be elves my age? How long will they be visit –"

"Whoa, little one, cease your questions!" his brother said laughingly, squeezing the younger elf's shoulders. "You will find out soon enough."

Legolas sighed. "Yes, Thalion," he said tamely, before he stopped suddenly in his tracks and placed a hand on his brother's arm to halt him as well. "But – _saes – _please, do not call me _that _– in front of them!"

When the older prince looked at him questioningly, Legolas said pleadingly: "'Little one', Thalion; please don't call me that in front of our guests."

The Crown Prince burst out laughing and studied his youngest brother's face, noting the fine, delicate, and stunningly beautiful features he had inherited from their mother, before he pulled him into a warm hug.

"You will always be our little one, Legolas," he whispered into the delicate ear, "but you have my word: that term shall not reach their ears tonight."

"_Hannon le,_" the young prince said, thanking his brother with a smile as he disentangled himself from the long arms of the older elf and started to sprint off. "Come, as a reward, I shall let you beat me in a race back home!"

The laughter of the two brothers echoed among the trees that witnessed with affection their race back to the Palace Caves and their dinner guests.

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_Hugs and kisses for my wonderful reviewers._


	3. Kindling of a Desire

**Chapter 3: Kindling of a Desire**

King Thranduil had hosted many dinners for many guests before, but Legolas could not remember a time when he had been more fascinated with them. His father had ordered the finest wines and meats to be served, for their guests were the famed Lord Elrond of Imladris and his family, of whom Legolas had heard so much.

Sitting at his _adar_'s right hand and dressed in rich velvet, Lord Elrond looked every inch the respected lord and healer he was reputed to be. His dark-haired twin sons seemed just as imposing to the young elf who had never left the safe borders of his forest home.

But the one who made Legolas sit mute in awe-struck admiration was the daughter of Lord Elrond: Arwen Undomiel, the much talked-about Evenstar of the elves, was truly the most beautiful elleth – nay, the most beautiful elf-being – he had ever seen. Hair as dark as raven's wings, and an exquisite dark blue dress enhanced the fair features and flawlessly smooth arms of the Evenstar.

The shy prince never realised, of course, that he himself was looked upon as a stunningly fair being himself, with the fine features of his mother and the radiant presence of his father. He looked every inch a prince in his silver and blue outfit that highlighted the summer-sky blue of his startlingly clear eyes. But all he was aware of was the captivating looks of Arwen. The conversation at the table revealed that she was about three hundred years older than he was, and therefore much closer to his own age than anyone else's, but because of the immortality that preserves youth, she did not look a day older than the prince.

To his amusement, it seemed to him that his brothers were also very taken with her, and they were both attentive to her every word. But while Alkarmenel engaged in easy conversation with all three of Elrond's children, Thoronthalion seemed entranced by the lady. Sitting beside him, Legolas observed discreetly how his brother's eyes hardly left her face and graceful hands as she ate across the table.

Arwen, in her turn, was graciously responsive to her hosts, and as the pleasant evening went on, she noticed Legolas' silence and asked him questions about Mirkwood to draw him into the conversation. Smiling, Legolas answered all her queries as politely as he had been brought up to do, but for the most part, he was content to let his brothers entertain the elleth, for his greater attention was given to the conversation between father and Lord Elrond.

The two lords were exchanging news of all that was happening in Middle-earth, and as they spoke, Legolas listened and learnt about a world beyond Mirkwood and Dale. They spoke about Men in the North and South, and Halflings and Dwarves and other folk he had not yet encountered. Then Lord Elrond's face clouded over as he spoke quietly of a rising Dark Force rising in the East, and the threat that it brought to the free peoples of Middle-earth, and he told of the Kings of Men in the South, who were fighting to hold on to their dominion so that it would not be overtaken by the Dark Force.

As he listened, there stirred in Legolas a longing he never knew he had: a desire to travel and see other lands in Middle-earth, and to meet other races. He wondered what the Dark Force was, and who the Kings of Men were in the South. He wondered if he would ever meet them.

There also arose in him a strange awareness – one he had never felt before – that despite being loved and protected, despite all the kin and friends he had here, there was still something – someone – missing from his life, someone from some other place who would make his life complete, as his mother had foretold. But he did not know who it would be, if it was a male or female, if it was friend or kin or mate, or where this person could be found.

"You seem preoccupied, my young lord," Arwen's voice broke into his thoughts, and he turned to see her sweet smile alighting upon his face.

Legolas blushed, while his oldest brother sipped his wine and looked at him in fond amusement. "I beg your pardon, my lady, for I was intent upon the news with which your father was enlightening my _adar._ I have never been outside Mirkwood, and I find the news of the outside world utterly fascinating."

Arwen's eyes widened a little as she cast him a look that could melt ice. "You have never left Mirkwood, prince –"

"_Saes_, please," Legolas interrupted. "I would be pleased if you would address me as Legolas, my lady; no formalities are needed here."

Arwen's laughter tinkled like silver bells in response. "Very well then, Legolas," she said, "I will comply if you call me Arwen in return; as you say, no formalities are needed."

"Agreed," Legolas said readily. "And to answer the question I believe you were about to ask: nay, my la– um…Arwen, I have never gone beyond the borders of our realm, but now a sudden desire seems to have arisen in me to see more of Middle-earth."

He did not see the slight frown that appeared on the handsome faces of Thoronthalion and Alkarmenel at those words, and Arwen had apparently not seen it either, for she continued in a happy tone.

"Then that is a very good reason for you to come and visit us in Imladris, Legolas, to satisfy your yearning," she said brightly. "I have not been very far myself, but I have traveled to Lothlorien where my grandparents are, and now I am here, and I have enjoyed these visits. We would love to have you as our guests in Imladris, would we not, Elladan? Elrohir?"

The twin elves echoed her sentiments immediately.

"Of course," said Elladan. "I speak for all when I say that you would be most welcome."

Legolas could not contain the surge of excitement that arose suddenly in him as he considered the possibility, and he turned to Thoronthalion with eager eyes, for he knew that if his eldest brother agreed to it, his father would.

It was then that he noticed the look of hesitation on the two older princes, and Legolas' face fell. The King respected the views of his eldest son a great deal, and if Thoronthalion did not approve of the visit to Imladris, there would be almost no chance of persuading his father to let him go. If Alkarmenel shared the same opinion, a refusal was certain.

_Saes, Thalion,_ the young elf said in his heart. _I know you love me and fear for me, but I cannot stay closeted here forever. I need to see the rest of the world in which we live. _

Legolas read the conflict in his brother's eyes as Thoronthalion turned to look at their _adar_, who – with all this attention on the dialogue with Elrond – had not heard the invitation from Arwen and the twins. Legolas' shoulders sagged; he knew what answer would come from his father and brother now. This was not the first time he had broached the subject of traveling outside Mirkwood and Dale, but his hunger now seemed more intense than before, and his disappointment was deeper. He braced himself to hear, at any moment, the response: a resounding –

"All right, Legolas," came the voice of Thoronthalion, and it took Legolas a moment to register what his brother had said. The young prince blinked and looked at the older elf in disbelief.

"Did you say… did you say I may go?" he breathed.

Thoronthalion laughed and placed his arm lovingly around the young elf. "Aye, young one –"

"Thalion!" Legolas hissed at the term, frowning. "You promised!"

"Ai, I did, indeed. My apologies – _Legolas,_" said the older prince, while the others smiled tactfully. "Fret not over it, Greenleaf. Let me make amends by persuading _Adar _to allow the visit." At the look of elation on Legolas' face, the Crown prince added: "On two conditions."

Legolas held his breath as he waited. "What are they?" he pressed impatiently.

"First – if there is no objection from the lords and lady of Imladris – Alkarmenel or I must accompany you."

Legolas now looked at Arwen and her brothers, and sighed in relief when Elladan readily said: "But of course, Thoronthalion, your whole family is welcome! After all, you have only been our guests once before."

Thalion nodded. "I thank you for your kindness," he said to the children of Elrond. "I' am certain Alkarmenel agrees with me: it would be a delight to see your fair valley again."

As Alkarmenel nodded his agreement, Elrohir added: "We expect there to be an escort as well, such as the one that came here with us."

Thalion turned back to his brother's eager face, his heart wrenched by the hopefulness he saw there, which made it difficult for him to say what he felt he had to.

"The second condition, Legolas," he forced himself to utter, "you may find this harder to agree to – yet that is the condition I set, and which I am sure _Adar _will concur with – if you truly wish to travel outside Mirkwood."

"What is that?" Legolas asked anxiously.

"You still need to train a little longer on the archery fields, and your skill with the long knives must continue to be honed," Thalion replied. "In addition, I would have you build your strength and confidence before you can even consider traversing unknown lands, for many leagues lie between here and Imladris, and you must be prepared for any eventuality. That preparation will take… a little more time."

"How long?" Legolas asked, a little crestfallen.

Thalion cleared his throat before he answered. "You may leave when you reach your four hundredth year."

"_Four hundred!_" Legolas' exclamation of dismay was so uncharacteristically loud that it drew the attention of his father and Elrond. "That is almost another two hundred years!"

Legolas' look and tone of disappointment made Thalion almost revert the conditions he had set, for he loved his youngest brother more than he could say, and would have done anything to grant him happiness. But he had heard about the orc-infested areas in the dark forests beyond the safety of their realm, and he was unwilling to let his brother travel anywhere till he was as adept a fighter as the more mature elves. This thought – and the memory of the fate that had befallen their mother – made him adhere resolutely to his convictions.

"Two hundred years is not that lengthy a time, _tithen pen_," he said consolingly, "It would have passed before you realize it."

Legolas was so downhearted that he did not even notice the term his brother had used to address him in front of the guests. He merely kept his eyes downcast, reining in his feeling of frustration. He knew that his brother presented a reasonable argument, but another two centuries seemed too long a time to await the fulfillment of a dream.

"Thalion is right, Leoglas," said Alkarmenel kindly from where he sat, his eyes full of love for the young elf who had been without a _naneth _since his first year of life. "You are a fine archer, but you must sharpen your skills with the knife, and you will need more experience as a tracker before you can venture outside Mirkwood. There is no telling when you will need these skills to survive."

Elrond and Thranduil exchanged an understanding smile with each other as they listened to the conversation among their children. The golden-haired king threw his two older sons looks of approval before he addressed his youngest child.

"I agree with your brothers, _ion nin,_" he said. "The time for you to see the rest of Middle-earth will come soon enough. You need but be patient a while longer."

As Legolas blushed and continued to study the tablecloth, feeling for all the world like a young elfling, but wishing to show his maturity by accepting a decision that his elders deemed wise. Lord Elrond studied him quietly before he spoke up.

"Perhaps, Elladan and Elrohir, you would care to tell Legolas how old you were when you first set foot outside the haven of Imladris?" he suggested.

Elladan threw his father a look of slight annoyance, but Elrohir – always the more gentle one – smiled, knowing at once what the wise Lord was trying to do for the young prince.

"We were four hundred and seventy-three, Legolas," said Elrohir kindly, "so if you can wait till your four hundredth year, you would still be younger than we were when we had our first big adventure outside the borders of our home."

"And I was about the same age before I was allowed to visit Lothlorien for the first time – with an escort large enough to frighten off an army of orcs," Arwen added, drawing a chuckle from the others.

"I had passed my nine hundredth year and Menel his seven hundredth before we set foot in Imladris, Legolas," Thalion said, "so you see, Legolas – four hundred years of age does not seem too old after all to be setting off on your first long trip from home."

The reputation of wisdom that Lord Elrond had gained was not misplaced. Legolas' face brightened visibly at the declarations from Elrohir, Arwen and Thalion, and he could look up and steal his father's and brothers' hearts with his radiant smile again – much to their relief.

"Very well then," he said cheerfully. "I will wait as you wish, and I will develop my skills so fast and train so diligently that you will have no cause to change your mind when the time comes, Thalion. But I hope your invitation from you will still be open to us by then, Arwen."

"Of course it will," the Evenstar assured him sincerely. "We will be awaiting your arrival."

"Let us hope Middle-earth will still be enjoying the peace it is now. Much can happen in two hundred years." said Lord Elrond. "But Imladris will always be open to you and your family, Thranduil, for as long as it stands. It has been too long since your last visit."

"_Hannon le_, old friend," Thranduil said in response, rising slowly from his seat. "Now shall we end this evening by retiring to the gardens while the weather is still pleasant and warm? We shall have some music and dance to entertain us, and I am certain – should you so permit, Elrond – at least three young elves will take delight in Arwen's grace as a dance partner."

There was certainly much cheer and music that evening, and the children of Lord Elrond had no lack of dance partners. But while his brothers and kin were taking pleasure in the festivities, Legolas was content to watch from the sidelines, delighting in another kind of excitement within.

The young prince was busy imagining his first adventure outside Mirkwood, and he could not discard the feeling that someone unexpectedly wonderful – and a little frightening – awaited him there. The thought both thrilled and scared him, and he found himself contemplating just how quickly two hundred years could pass.

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_Thank you to all those who reviewed the last chapter. _:)


	4. A New World

**Chapter 4**: **A New World**

This was one day in his life that Legolas would always remember as the day he could not believe his eyes.

First, he could not believe that after two hundred years (which he found it hard to believe had passed), he was finally, FINALLY, in Imladris. It had taken three weeks, a skirmish with spiders on the Old Forest Road, and a small confrontation with a rogue band of orcs for him and his brothers, and their escort of fifteen elves, to journey here.

Secondly, he could not believe that the home of Lord Elrond – the famed elven refuge – could be as beautiful as Mirkwood was. The forests and pools and mountains surrounding his home would always have a special place in his heart, but when he entered the realm of Imladris, a sense of awe and fascination came over him, and when he rode through the gates of Lord Elrond's stronghold, he felt he was riding into a dream. The air here was clearer than he thought possible, the mountains strong and serene, the waterfalls soothing and musical, and even the trees seemed inviting. He could swear he heard singing in the air greeting their arrival, and indeed – as he found out later – the elves of Eldrond's household were exceedingly fond of song. The pillars and floors and walls and doors of the elven lord's home was pure art. He stood looking around in awe for some time till the twins and Arwen laughingly ushered him indoors to a warm welcome from Elrond himself. And when he was shown to a small room and saw the small fall of water outside its walls, he felt he had come to a second home, a place of comfort and joy he did not wish to leave.

"I chose this room for you, Legolas," said Arwen, smiling. "I thought you might like it."

"I cannot tell you how much I do, Arwen," he said breathlessly, still looking around in a daze. "It is like something from a painting I would hang in my room and never take down – except that I am _in _the painting."

Arwen laughed and offered to help him unpack, an offer that Legolas quickly accepted. Neither of them questioned how it was that they had come to feel so comfortable in each other's presence only after one meeting in Mirkwood. Having grown up among strong males, Legolas found Arwen's company, her grace and feminine voice – and her unquestioned beauty – delightful and charming. None of the _elleth_ in his father's realm touched him in quite this way.

Arwen, too, felt a fondness stirring within her for this prince. With each word of their conversation, as he talked about how Imladris impressed him, her affection grew. He was open with her, and refreshingly appreciative of things she had always taken for granted. She marveled that a male could have so much beauty and fineness in his appearance, and yet possess so much skill and strength, if what she had been told was to be believed.

"Your brothers say that you can best them at archery now, and even tire them out at sparring with your knives," she said, her eyes shining as she hung one of his finer tunics in a closet. "Is that true? Is that how you finally convinced them to let you make this visit?"

Legolas laughed. "Aye, that is true," he confessed. "I had to show them I could best them at something – _anything_ – so that they would have the confidence that I could take care of myself beyond the borders of our home. Well… it worked."

Arwen smiled. "They really love you," she remarked.

Legolas nodded, and a soft look came over his face, making him look the vulnerable young elf his brothers always considered him to be. "They are very protective," he said. "I am afraid it will be impossible for them to look at me as a full-grown elf for many aeons yet, although I have been one for a long, _long, _time!"

Arwen laughed at the grimace on the prince's face, and as he placed more of his clothes in a drawer of the dresser, she studied his movements and noted with admiration his tall, slender frame, and the lean, firm muscles of his arms and thighs.

_Yes, prince Legolas, you are indeed a full-grown elf, _she found herself thinking. _No doubt about that. The two hundred years have matured you in a very attractive way._

She was still eyeing him wistfully when she noticed him removing a little silk pouch from his tunic and placing it carefully at the back of the drawer.

"Is that something valuable, Legolas?" she enquired curiously. "Do you need for it to be kept somewhere more secure?"

Legolas blinked in incomprehension for a moment before he caught her meaning. "Oh, no, Arwen, _hannon le_," he declined, thanking her graciously. He thought about the green stone within the pouch that only his family and some members of his father's Court knew about. "It is a valuable thing to me, but nothing that anyone else would desire to rob me of. And I am certain there are no thieves in Imladris."

"You are quite right, Legolas, there are none," Arwen assured him, rising from her seat. "I only meant that your… er… property… might become damaged. But it should be safe enough here, I trust. Now, I will leave you to wash before you join us for tea. I will send someone to guide you and your brothers to _Adar's_ private chambers."

Legolas nodded gratefully. There would be a grander dinner for the guests later, but Elrond thought a quiet tea would be more restful for the weary travelers.

Half an hour later, Legolas found himself walking with his brothers into the Imladris lord's chambers. It was there that Legolas encountered the third thing he could not believe for the day, for, sitting with Lord Elrond and his family, and the sedate Erestor, was a lady and her small child: a little boy of perhaps five or six years. And they were of the _Edain. _

The three Mirkwood princes could not help their surprise at the sight. The people of Mirkwood traded regularly with the Men of Dale, but the many dangers faced by the elves over hundreds of years made them wary of any close relationship with the mortals, and the furthest they had ever permitted Men to enter Mirkwood was the outer fringes of the forest. The _Edain _had certainly had never been allowed to even catch a glimpse of the forest realm beyond the outer ring of guarded trees, let alone sit in the King's Palace Caves as this mother and child were doing in the home of Lord Elrond.

Cautious they might be of the _Edain_, but Thranduil's sons had not been brought up to be rude. Thoronthalion's presence of mind snapped them out of their astonishment, reminding them of their manners. They voiced polite greetings to everyone present and inclined their heads towards the ladies present.

"_Mae govannen, hir nin,_"a young voice piped up, startling them – both because it had come boldly from the boy, who stood to bow quickly to them, and because it had been uttered in Elvish, which they did not expect from the human child. Arwen and her brothers smiled encouragingly at the young boy and complimented him on his manners.

Again, the composure of the eldest prince saved them, for Legolas' eyes had grown as large and round as saucers, and his mouth had hung open to match them.

"_Mae govannen_," Thalion responded quickly on behalf of himself and his brothers, acting and sounding exactly like the royal figure he was. "Forgive us, we did not expect such a greeting from… er… from one so young."

Elrond and his family smiled in amusement as the elven lord introduced them to the mother and child. "Meet Lady Gilraen and her son," Lord Elrond said.

After exchanging more courteous nods with the mortals, the three princes seated themselves in front of the array of sweetmeats and drink to which they had been ushered.

"Lady Gilraen?" Alkarmenel whispered in awe. "Is she not… is she not…?"

"Aye, the wife of the departed Arathorn of Gondor," Elrond confirmed quietly. "I see that Thranduil has learned of his death as well, and what it forebodes for Middle Earth. You understand, of course, what this also means for the child – for his life will be sought by the Dark Lord, and will thus need to be kept a secret. His presence must not be known outside the realm of Imladris, not till he comes of age and learns of his lineage."

"Of course, you may trust us, my lord," Thalion assured him, still speaking in a quiet tone. "So they are living here under your protection?"

"Aye, I have taken him as my foster son," Elrond affirmed. "He will grow up here till he is old enough to challenge Sauron and reclaim the throne of Gondor for the sake of Middle-earth. He is the last of that line."

"What is his name?" Alkarmenel enquired.

Elrond hesitated before he answered, but decided that he could trust the sons of Thranduil. "His real name is Aragorn," he answered. "But for his own safety, and because he is the hope of his people, I have named him Estel. By that shall he be known till he comes of age."

"Estel," Legolas whispered unexpectedly. It was then that the others noticed how the youngest prince's eyes had been fixed on the child, who, for some reason, captivated him.

The boy's grey-blue eyes caught the blue ones of the golden-haired prince, and he surprised everyone in the room by walking over to Legolas, whose gaze never left him.

"Estel!" the boy's mother called, but he ignored her. He placed one hand on Legolas' knee to brace himself, and reached up with the other hand to touch the prince's hair.

"Where did you get this?" he asked unexpectedly, taking everyone aback.

"What – my hair?" Legolas asked after a moment's stunned silence.

"Mm," the child affirmed, his dark curls bobbing with his nod.

A smile crossed every face in the room as the prince struggled for an answer. "It… it came with my head," he said at last, amidst a burst of laughter from the elves around him.

"Like Gorfi's," the child announced, turning to his mother and drawing more laughter.

"Estel has always been fascinated by Glorfindel's hair," Elladan explained to the astounded Mirkwood princes. "He has been away visiting with Cirdan at the Havens for some months, and I think Estel misses the sight of it. No one else in Imladris possesses hair of that color."

"And yours, Legolas, is even brighter," Elrohir added.

"Like _Adar's_," Thalion added good-naturedly, bemused by his brother's embarrassment.

"Ooh!" Legolas exclaimed softly when Estel tugged at his hair, and Lady Gilraen quickly rose to retrieve her son.

"It's stuck," the boy remarked with wide eyes. Then, on a completely unrelated track, he asked: "Will you play with me?"

"Estel, leave the prince alone," Lady Gilraen admonished, reaching for him to pull him away from Legolas, but the elf caught the boy's hands and looked steadily into his hopeful eyes. Here was a child without a father, Legolas thought, just as he had grown up without one parent. And despite the love from everyone else, their situations were much alike.

"I will, after tea," he promised, "if your mother will permit it."

"Are you sure it won't be too much trouble?" the lady asked politely.

"No trouble," the boy announced before Legolas could answer, again drawing chuckles from everyone else.

"No trouble," Legolas confirmed, smiling at the boy and receiving a delighted grin in return.

Thoronthalion and Alkarmenel looked at each other, each thinking the same thing. Their young brother's first journey away from home, and he was already befriending a child of the _Edain. _What would their father think?

Still, he was merely entertaining the child, they thought, a kindness that their _naneth _would have bestowed herself on any child. Legolas was truly like their mother in temperament, they realized. And even as they watched the little human attach himself to their beloved brother, they assured themselves that Legolas could not possibly get hurt by a friendship with a child. No, the elder princes thought, Estel was but a source of amusement for a young elf who was just beginning to be exposed to a new world. They would be returning home to Mirkwood after this visit, and Estel, or Aragorn, would be growing up to travel a different road.

Thus assured, they dismissed their initial concerns and turned their attention to Arwen and her brothers, and the coming weeks in the fair haven of Imladris. Their last thought on the matter was that surely, Legolas and Estel would soon be pursuing their own destinies.

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_Thank you to all who reviewed the previous chapters. I forgot to wish everyone a Happy New Year - a little late! _


	5. Bonds Forged

**Chapter 5**: **Bonds Forged**

The next few weeks in Imladris passed by like a dream for Legolas. The young elf away from home for the first time did not cease to be fascinated by the new world he was in, with new people and places to learn about.

Each day found him discovering a scene to take his breath away. Under the watchful eyes of his brothers and with the guidance of Elladan and Elrohir, he rode farther and farther away from the house of Lord Elrond to camp in strange forests. He sharpened his tracking skills rapidly, and learnt about healing herbs from the sons of the greatest elven healer in Middle-earth, absorbing the information with a curiosity and quickness that both amused and pleased his patient teachers.

When he was back in the house of the elf lord, there were stories to hear and tell, and merry nights when song and dance filled the hours of the night. Days were filled with archery contests and visits to the sun-kissed falls in the mountains surrounding the haven. Studying the maps of Middle-earth under the eager tutelage of Lord Elrond was no less exciting, for Legolas was a keen student, and eager to learn as much as he could about Middle-earth even if he might never visit all the places he heard about. The young prince continued to acquire new insights about the likes and dislikes of Imladris elves. More and more, he began to realize how sheltered he had been, and how much of life he had yet to savor.

Through it all, Arwen remained a willing and understanding companion. The Evenstar was a good hostess, ever ready to spend time with the three guests, and Legolas not the least. She listened to him and answered his questions, and Legolas found himself growing fonder and more trusting of her than he had ever been to anyone outside his family.

And then there was Estel.

Estel, who followed him like a little wolf cub would his mother. Estel, who would seek him in the morning, and at play time, and who would insist on seeing him before he went to bed. Estel, who would impatiently await Legolas' return whenever the elf rode off to explore the forests outside the borders of Imladris. Estel, who – beyond all expectations – filled the young elf's need to take care of someone as he had always been cared for, and to amuse someone as he had been amused by his doting father and brothers and the elves of the Forest Realm.

The whole of Imladris – the boy's mother no less – smiled at the innocent and sincere delight these two new friends found in each other: the golden prince and the dark-haired child, the elf and the _adan_, so different, but so alike in the simple joy they found in their time together.

"Faster, Le'las, faster! Aaaa… faster!"

The joyous shrieks of the little mortal boy – an increasingly frequent sound in the grounds of Elrond's house since the arrival of Prince Legolas – rang through the air yet again as the golden-haired elf prince lifted him in the air and swung him around and around. The high-pitched giggles blended with the silvery laughter of the prince and drew smiles from even the most sober and sternest of Imladris elves who happened to be passing by, so heartfelt and honest was the mirth of the unlikely pair of companions.

After a particularly fast swing, the elf prince toppled over onto his back, still holding the child firmly so the boy landed gently on top of his chest.

His blue-grey eyes shining with a thrill he had never known, Estel placed a plump hand on each of the elven shoulders and burrowed his face into the crook of the elf's neck, tickling the prince. As the laughter of the two new friends tapered off, the child's breathing slowed, and his hold on the shoulders relaxed. The two companions continued to lie quietly on the soft green grass, while the warm sun in a blue sky beat down upon them, and butterflies flitted quietly above blossoms nearby. It was a picture of serenity, of speechless contentment disrupted only when the small voice of the child eventually uttered the name of the prince.

"Le'las?" Estel called, without lifting his head.

"Yes, _tithen pen_?" Legolas answered, using the same term for the child that he had always been called by his brothers.

"I like playing with you," came the reply.

"And I with you," Legolas said without hesitation, patting the child gently on his back.

"Le'las?"

"Yes, Estel?"

"Can you stay here forever?" the little voice pleaded.

Legolas smiled. "No, little one, I cannot," he answered, surprised at the amount of melancholy he suddenly felt at that realization.

"Why not?" the child demanded, lifting his face to look the elf prince in the eye. "Don't you like being here?"

The elf looked at him steadily. "Oh, Estel," he breathed. "How can you think that? I like Imladris very much, and I like your company even more!" He meant it, for he had grown immensely fond of the little boy over the past weeks.

"Then why won't you stay here with me?" Estel asked, with eyes so wide they threatened to melt the heart of the gentle elf.

"My home is far away," Legolas stated as kindly as he could. "My father is waiting for me."

Crestfallen, the boy hid his face in Legolas' neck again, and his hands moved to clutch at the golden hair that did not cease to fascinate him.

"Will you forget me after you've gone home?" he asked softly, and the elf heard a quiver in his voice.

Legolas felt his breath hitch. "Estel, of course I will not! Never think that!" he assured the child.

Estel was quiet for a few moments, and stayed so still that Legolas thought he must have fallen asleep. The elf was thus startled when the little voice spoke again. "Le'las?"

"Yes, Estel?" Legolas answered, amused.

"I love you."

A strange warmth spread through Legolas at that unexpected declaration, making him smile with heartfelt pleasure. Yet, he could not understand what he could be feeling for a human child he had met only a few weeks ago. He stroked the dark curls gently and thought: _If what I feel for you is love, Estel – then I love you, too._

But before he could articulate the words aloud, he heard a little snort from the child as the dark head turned to reveal closed eyes behind curtains of long lashes.

The elf prince smiled fondly at the sight of the flushed face – now innocent in slumber – and gently tucked a dark lock that had fallen over across the smooth, chubby cheek, back in place behind the little ear.

Then, adjusting his warm little burden so that it would not fall off his chest, and wrapping his arms protectively around the young child's back, the elf prince drifted off into a light but contented sleep.

Neither of the slumbering pair saw the tenderness on the face of Gilraen as she came looking for her son and found him fast asleep in the arms of the prince, nor the look of slight uneasiness in the eyes beneath the furrowed brows of Thoronthalion as he strolled the grounds and witnessed the same scene.

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_**NOTE**: Thank you everyone who reviews my stories - especially those who do so regularly (most recent ones like 11Dancer14) and including those who send in anonymous reviews that I can't reply to, like **Matthieu. **Thank you for the kind words you wrote in response to my other story - I only hope you are reading this one. __I'm always pleased when readers say they find stories that change their minds about fanfic, when they see the time and effort writers like me actually put into their little stories for no other reason than to bring pleasure to readers if they can. It feels really good when someone recognizes that and expresses his or her appreciation! _:)

_For that reason, I hope all of you will check out the stories by my favorite authors, particularly **Soar** and **Legolass Q**, whose stories inspired me in many ways. (You can find them by clicking on my name and viewing my favorites lists). They write such great stories that I hope you will leave them lots of reviews that they deserve! _

_See you next update!_


	6. Hopes and Plans

**Chapter 6**:** Hopes and Plans **

"Don't they look blissful together?"

The softly posed question made Thoronthalion turn around to see a smiling Gilraen walk slowly over to where he had been standing and studying the scene before him: his beloved youngest brother asleep on the grass, holding the human child securely in his arms even in reverie. Estel lay on his chest, his mouth slightly ajar, and his little hands fisted lightly with strands of golden hair between his fingers.

For some moments, the eldest prince of Mirkwood was at a loss for words. The unlikely friends did look so much at peace, he had to concede, but his own heart was not entirely in the same state. The young elf and _adan _did seem to have an unusual bond, instantly forged, that made them both happy, but his own heart held some misgivings. From the time he was born, Legolas had always been a lovable elf with the sweet temperament of their _naneth_. But he had never seen him so taken by anything that quickly, and so light-hearted as he had been these past weeks in Imladris. He would give anything for his little brother's happiness, so why was he feeling so disturbed, he asked himself?

Sighing at the absence of a reasonable answer, he returned the lady's smile and responded with a tactful "Yes, they certainly do".

"You know of Estel's true heritage, of course, my lord?" Gilraen enquired, brushing off some leaves on a wooden bench and seating herself.

"Yes, my lady, we were informed of it by Lord Elond," the prince replied, standing respectfully nearby. "And you can be assured of our confidence. No one will learn of it from us, until Lord Elrond deems it is time."

"Thank you, my lord," the lady said, growing contemplative. "It is no light inheritance, for if the Dark Lord should regain power as is being rumored, then it may be up to Estel to unite the Men of Middle-earth in a battle against him, and reclaim the realm of Gondor. When the time comes for him to find out the weight of the task before him, I fear that he will find it too great to even accept, let alone bear it on his young shoulders."

Gilraen sighed as she studied the sleeping pair again. "I would that he enjoy his childhood and youth as much as he can, and while he can, for he will grow up all too soon. I'm delighted that he has found such a wonderful friend in Prince Legolas; he has never spent this much time or energy on any one passion in his young life, and I'm glad he worships one who deserves his worship, for I see in your brother a kind, honest soul who would never hurt the child."

Thoronthalion sucked in a breath, for he suddenly realized that in Gilraen's words lay the source of his concern over his brother: he was afraid that Legolas' growing affection for a human child he hardly knew would leave him vulnerable to hurt. Estel would eventually return to the world of Men, and there was not a single Man – not even through all the years of trading with them – in whom Thranduil ever allowed the Elves of Mirkwood to place complete trust. History told them how Men had once betrayed their kin in battles past, and that treachery was ever written in the memories of the Firstborn.

But Thoronthalion was a reasonable Elf, and he remembered how the three Houses of the_ Edain _had remained true in their friendship with the Elves. It was sad that those lines were now broken, their heritage forgotten.

Except in Estel.

In Estel still lived the Hope of Men, that the bloodline of the _Edain_ would be restored. One day, if he claimed what was rightfully his, he would become a powerful Man. Thoronthalion wondered if he would grow up decent and true as the _Edain_ of old had been, and whether he would remember this friendship that a pure-hearted, golden-haired elf so freely gave him in his childhood. Or would he turn proud and spurn that friendship? Legolas breathed passion into everything he held dear, and believed in everyone for whom he had affection. If he went on nurturing this relationship with Estel, he would be devastated if one day Estel should turn –

"You worry about your brother," Gilraen observed, startling the prince out of his musings. A smile of understanding graced her face as she looked up at him, and he found himself turning red.

"Forgive me, I did not mean – " he began.

"Do not apologise, my lord," the lady interrupted, inviting the prince to share the bench with her. "I too worry about Estel, as I should. I hope their friendship will remain as pure and as unsullied as it is now, for they are both good souls who have borne loss, and they comfort each other."

"Legolas treasures everyone he comes to love, even a little child," the Crown Prince explained, smiling and accepting a seat. "Indeed, I believe he will miss Estel a great deal when we leave."

Gilraen gave a little laugh. "Estel will also hurt when you leave, and I will be hard put to console him then. I find myself growing tired just thinking about what I shall have to do to keep his mind off Legolas!"

"I find it hard to think of Legolas as little more than an elfling himself," Thoronthalion confessed. "He is still very young for an elf, and there are only a handful left in Mirkwood who are younger than he. I cannot help but feel that he too will need – er – entertainment."

The two seated figures laughed lightly at their own sentiments as they continued to watch the sleeping forms.

"And what amuses you so?"

Startled, the Prince and Lady whipped around to see a smiling Arwen, clad in a lovely lilac dress, walking gracefully towards them. A blush crept over the smooth cheeks of the handsome elf prince as he stood to greet her and offer her his seat.

"_Sui lad,_" he said in greeting.

"It is a lovely day, thank you," Arwen replied. "And your moods match it, I see!"

"We were just appreciating the peace and happiness of those two young souls," Gilaren explained, indicating the sleeping pair on the grass. "I'm afraid our little boy has tired out our guest."

"Indeed!" Arwen agreed with a dainty laugh as she accepted the seat. "Long has it been since so much mirth flowed so freely from the mouth of little Estel. Legolas is a wonder!"

Pride shone in the eyes of the Crown Prince as he added his agreement. "Aye, he is. He is like a light for my family, illuminating our lives even in the darkest of times."

"His heart is full of love, and he gives it easily," Arwen observed, her voice softening as she gazed at the sleeping prince. "And it is no less easy to return that sentiment; he captured everyone's affection from the moment he stepped into Imladris."

There was so much feeling in her tone and such a wistful look in her eyes as she voiced her thoughts about Legolas that Gilraen could not help raising her eyebrows and asking: "And has he captured your affection too?"

"Most certainly," Arwen replied without hesitation, her eyes still locked on the golden prince. "I have grown very fond of him."

Gilraen's keen eyes did not miss the strange expression that flitted across Thoronthalion's face: there was surprise and wonder, and – to Gilraen's amusement – a tinge of envy as well. But it went as fast as it appeared, and he was the elegant, composed prince again.

The lady smiled to herself. _So, our Evenstar has enchanted the eldest Prince of Mirkwood, _she thought. _But she seems to have been enraptured by the youngest. _

But as she watched the prince and Arwen continue to converse comfortably, and her eyes lit up no less than when she had been speaking about Legolas, the lady found herself wondering if she had been imagining things, for the Evenstar was a charming hostess, and she might simply be extending her warm affection to all three of her guests.

_That is certainly not hard to do, _thought Lady Gilraen. _The Mirkwood princes are all pleasant and very likeable. It would not be a bad idea for her to be matched with one of them – any one. _

A little unexpected thrill went through her at the thought, for she loved Arwen and her motherly instincts stimulated a wish to see the _elleth_ happily wed. Any one of the three princes would be a wonderful husband, she thought.

_Perhaps I should speak to Elrond about it_, she thought. _I do not think he would be averse to the idea. _

Tinkling laughter fell from the fair lips of the two elves as Thoronthalion made an amusing comment, and the sunshine that lit their already radiant faces brightened Gilraen's hopes as well.

_No, I do not think Elrond will be opposed to the idea at all_, she decided with a secret smile.

--xx00xx--

So pleasurable had the stay in Imladris been for the Mirkwood princes that the five weeks they had planned to spend there turned into seven.

Legolas, in particular, savored every moment, fearing that it would be some time before he would have another opportunity to visit new places. He hiked through the woods as much as he could, and rode as far as it was deemed safe, soaking in the sights and sounds as a hungry babe would milk, so that he could remember them once he returned to Mirkwood.

And little Estel grew even closer to the golden-haired prince, happy when he woke each day to find his Le'las at breakfast, and impatient when he had to wait till the prince finished his business in the library, or till he returned from his ride. Still, Le'las was around most of the time, and Estel could think of nothing else but his company. Le'las took him fishing, showed him how to handle baby birds that fell out of their nest, taught him how to read the moods of trees.

Elladan and Elrohir had taught him much, but "everything's nicer when Le'las does it with me!' he chirped happily to his mother.

But the day came when Thoronthalion and Alkarmenel decided that it was time to leave before they outwore their welcome, and before their _adar _sent out search parties for his three sons. Legolas could not decide whether he was excited to return home, or disappointed to be leaving.

"Do not fret, _tithen pen_, you are welcome to visit again anytime," Lord Elrond assured him. "Come, we will have a little feast before you leave, so that your departure is marked by song and cheer and hope of your return, so that you leave here with pleasant memories."

"My memories are already pleasant, my lord, even without a feast!" Legolas replied. "I am grateful for all that I have experienced here. Imladris is a wonderful haven."

Pleased with the young prince's appraisal of the home that he nurtured for those of his House, Lord Elrond immediately set about arranging the farewell feast for the royal guests, which he would hold outdoors in a part of the gardens that the young prince loved so well.

He smiled when he realized how, in such a short period of time, Legolas already seemed a part of his family. As the elf lord made his preparations, he reflected upon the conversation Gilraen had had with him earlier in the week:

"_Arwen marry one of the Mirkwood princes?" he repeated the lady's suggestion. _

"_Why not? Don't you approve of the idea?" she argued. "Any one of them would make a fine husband for her! You'd be hard pressed to find someone better." _

_The lady watched him prop an arm up on his elbow and tap his forehead with his forefinger, and that was a sure sign that he was contemplating it. _

"_It's not that I'm suggesting it take place today, Elrond!" she laughed. "But Arwen will have suitors at some point, and I thought you should consider one of these splendid princes for her." _

"_You are right," Lord Elrond agreed, sighing. "I had never imagined having Thranduil as an in-law, but if Arwen is agreeable to it – I can live with that." _

"_Live with it?" Gilraen exclaimed in amusement. "You speak as if he is an orc! I'm sure he's not, if he's raised three sons to be as decent as they are! Well, it may be a long time yet. Let Arwen know them a little better, but when the time is ripe, a word in her ear would not be amiss!" _

_Elrond smiled at the human lady. "Very well, my lady," he said resignedly. "One cannot debate much with a mother's point of view, and that is what you have been to Arwen in many ways. I will take your counsel and hope she will be partial to it as well." _

And that was their plan, with no one else the wiser about it. He was content to let affairs develop at their own pace, to see if Arwen would indeed find one of the princes a desirable life-time companion. Right now, he was preoccupied with leaving the guests with a good last impression of his home before they returned to Mirkwood.

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_Thanks very much to all who reviewed this story_. _Your support means a lot. _


	7. The Last Dance

**Chapter 7**: The Last Dance

The smell of roasting meat and fresh pastries tantalized the appetites of the elves who filled the grounds of Elrond's house with their happy laughter. Small silver lamps hung from many trees, casting a warm glow upon all, and the music of harps and fair voices wove through the branches and floated through the air to sit lightly upon the soft, beautiful faces of the elves.

There were cheerful elves, more serious elves, singing elves, serving elves… and none was more beautiful than the Evenstar, who, as was her usual wont, dazzled the crowd in a midnight blue dress with a neckline that fell off her creamy white shoulders. More than one male elf – most of them, in fact – admired her silently, but held their tongues because she was the daughter of their lord, and none would dare approach her till it was time to dance. So they feasted their eyes on her beauty and thought none comparable to her...

…till the youngest prince of Mirkwood appeared.

Gasps and astonished silence took their turn as Legolas walked in with his brothers. Thoronthalion had insisted that they dress well to do justice to Lord Elrond's celebration, and dress they did. They all looked resplendent in their fine garments spun from the silken threads of Mirkwood's giant spider webs, and the two older princes received many awed glances from the elves of Imladris.

But the youngest brother was nothing short of breathtaking in silver and lilac, his golden hair and startling blue eyes shining in the light of the moon and lamps. It wasn't that he surpassed the beauty of the Evenstar, but here at last, the elves of Imladris met her equal, though they were at a loss for words to describe him. This time, both the males and females of Elrond's household found themselves utterly enchanted.

"Here you are!" Elladan called out cheerfully to them, beaming with welcome as he greeted each of the princes. "Oh, I cannot believe you have been here seven weeks, for the time has flown by so fast!"

"Aye," Elrohir agreed. "It seems like you arrived only yesterday and now it is time for you to leave."

"Not till the coming morn," said Alkarmenel, laughing. "Tonight – we will still partake of the wonder that is Imladris."

"That is what this feast is for," said Elladan. "To make sure you only have the most pleasurable memories to take back with you – our reputation rides on you!"

"We will miss you all," Arwen stated with sincerity in her voice. "And you, Legolas, will be sorely missed by Estel as well!" She took both of Legolas' hands hands and led him to a table laden with food. "But come, tonight, we will be merry, and you must dance with me – though I am sure I will have plenty of competition! See – already the ladies of Imladris are fainting from admiration, for you look splendid!"

Indeed, wherever Legolas turned, he saw both male and female elves studying him and whispering. Suddenly feeling very conscious of himself, he blushed and focused his attention on the food and on Arwen. His brothers were already mingling with the others, but he stayed close to Arwen and Lord Elrond, and sipped his wine without speaking much to anyone else.

After a while, when Thoronthalion came over to ask Arwen for a dance and the lady accepted, Legolas was left alone with Lord Elrond and Elladan, who began to tease him.

"There are plenty of pretty _elleth_s here to choose from, young prince," Elrond said, smiling. "And they are waiting to join you in dance. Will you break their hearts?"

"And there are young males, too – who would not hesitate to snatch you from the _elleth_s should you prefer them!" Elladan added, laughing at the fierce blush that colored the prince's face.

Legolas turned red and white in turn, for he had not made merry with elves other than the ones he was familiar with in his Mirkwood palace. He truly did not wish to dance with any of them, but when Elladan brought a beautiful, doe-eyed _elleth_ over to him, politeness stemmed the refusal on the tip of his tongue, and he found himself leading the young female elf to the dance area. Although his body and feet began following the music, his mind was working out how quickly he could leave this area after the dance, so that he could blend into the shadows under the trees.

But the young elf had no such luck, for so radiant was his appearance and so graceful his movements that even more elves now waited for a chance to dance with the golden prince from Mirkwood, that they might have pleasant dreams from having been in close contact with him. Oblivious to all the growing admiration around him, Legolas found himself barred from escaping the area nonetheless, and had to accept three more dances with both male and female elves. They were not unpleasant, but the soft-spoken prince discovered that night how shy he really was and how quickly he was wilting under all the attention he was receiving.

Just as he felt he would rather faint than try to make conversation with yet another fawning dance partner, a familiar voice saved him.

"Come, Legolas," Arwen said at last. "The others have had their chance! Surely you will not refuse me the honor of this next dance?"

Legolas' lips carved such a brilliant smile of genuine relief and gratitude that Arwen was glad she had come to his rescue, but those who had been waiting their turn felt truly disappointed.

"Thank you, Arwen!" Legolas breathed as he took her hand and began to move in time with her. "One more, and I would have begged to stop!"

Arwen laughed. "Worry not then, Legolas, no one will dare to snatch you away as long as you remain with me!"

True to her word, she kept dancing with Legolas for the next three rounds, ignoring the eager and disappointed looks cast their way, and the crowd was surprised to see how the shy golden prince seemed totally comfortable and light-hearted in her presence. No less surprised – but definitely more pleased – were Lord Elrond and Gilraen, who exchanged secretive smiles at the sight of the handsome pair.

"See how wonderful they look together!' Lady Gilraen whispered to the elf lord. "Is it not a good match?"

Lord Elrond smiled wistfully. "They are certainly very comfortable with each other, my lady," he replied. "But whether they are meant for each other remains to be seen; a few dances do not a match make!"

"Really, my lord, do you still doubt? What still pricks at your confidence?" the Lady challenged gently, raising her delicate brows.

"Well… Arwen has yet to profess exclusive fondness for anyone," the elf lord responded immediately. "And then – there is _that_ expression over there!"

Puzzled, Gilraen followed Elrond's line of vision till she saw where his eyes rested: on the form of Prince Thoronthalion, who was also watching the dancing pair. But what struck Gilraen – and she now understood Lord Elrond's hesitation – was the expression on his face: a look of gladness, but even greater sadness, as he witnessed his youngest brother's easy interaction with Arwen. It was the same look she had seen the day they watched Legolas and Estel asleep on the grass, when Arwen voiced her affection for the youngest prince.

"Aaaah, now I see the source of your concern, my lord," Gilraen said quietly. "Indeed, it does seem that more than one prince might be enamored with your beautiful daughter."

"On the contrary, my lady," the elf lord countered, surprising her. "It may be that we see differently, for what I see is one prince being good friends with Arwen, while another is clearly besotted by her – and it should be obvious to us which is which!"

At Elrond's words, Lady Gilraen looked from one prince to the other, studying them, and she smiled. "I believe you may be right, my lord," she conceded. "Sharper are your eyes than mine, and it seems that the choices Arwen is faced with will not be easy as I had first thought. Ah, well – she will have time to pick."

The notes of the melodious harp trailed off just then, ending the music for the current dance, and Legolas led Arwen over to where Lord Elrond and Lady Gilraen were standing.

"Arwen dances divinely, my lord," Legolas said gallantly, bowing to Gilraen and accepting a glass of wine from his host.

"Then you must have another," Lady Gilraen said slyly, noting the sparkle in Arwen's eyes.

But suddenly a shrill, tearful voice came flying through the air to their ears: "Le'las, don't go – don't go!" And there came hurtling towards Legolas the body of little Estel, outrunning the _elleth _who had been charged with looking after him for the night, and skillfully dodging the outstretched arms of his startled mother.

An astonished Legolas dropped his glass of wine as he used both hands to catch Estel who launched himself at the elf. Before he could utter a question or remark, the child wrapped his arms around his neck, clinging tightly to him and sobbing into his long hair.

"Estel, what is the matter?" his mother asked, aghast, trying to retrieve the child from Legolas. "What are you doing here? Are you all right?"

"Maelynn said you're – you're leaving, Le'las! D-don't go, please don't go!" Estel pleaded, crying into the silk of the elven hair as if his heart would break.

A little shaken at the outburst of sorrow from the child, Legolas patted his back soothingly, while Estel's mother and foster family stood around helplessly. Thoronthalion walked over to join them as well, drawn by the commotion over the sudden appearance of the child.

Lord Elrond cast Maelynn a questioning look, which made the _elleth_ nervous. "I thought – I thought he – he already knew, my lord," she stammered. "Forgive me –"

"It's all right, Maelynn," Gilraen said to allay her guilt. "He would find out in the morning in any case, and he would still be upset. Perhaps it's best he found out this way."

As the child continued to whimper tearfully, Legolas whispered to him. "Hush, Estel, I am not leaving yet, not at this moment."

"Y– you'll leave tomorrow!" Estel protested through his sobs.

"But not tonight," Legolas countered gently, his heart melting at the child's genuine tears. "Tonight, I am still with you, little one."

"No, you're not!" Estel argued. "You're not! I was in my room, and you were dancing!" To everyone's surprise, he raised his tearful face and gave Arwen a hard glare with his bright eyes. "You were dancing with Arwen! She was holding you!"

Legolas' and Arwen's eyes grew wide, amused at this unexpected show of apparent jealousy from the child. "Why, yes, I was, Estel," Legolas confirmed. "You saw that?"

"You were supposed to be in bed," the child's mother chided gently. "Come with me, darling, Legolas is here to dance. You can see him tomorrow – "

"No, no! Dance with _me_, Le'las, dance with me! Don't let them take me!" Estel cried urgently. "Pleeeeease!" And so fervent was his plea that Elrond and Arwen and the other elves did not know whether to laugh or be indignant at the child. He wrapped his arms even more tightly around Legolas, who seemed at a loss as to how to proceed.

Thoronthalion stepped in then and placed a hand on his brother's shoulder, smiling at his look of helplessness. "Comfort him, Legolas," he said in a voice full of love. "I can well understand how he loathes to let you go, for I would feel the same." Tilting his head to catch Estel's eye, he spoke kindly to the child: "Be at ease, Estel; I will dance with Lady Arwen, and you can have Legolas all to yourself."

Then the eldest prince turned to Arwen and held out his hand. "It looks like Legolas is otherwise occupied, so I offer myself as a poor alternative," he said modestly.

"Heed not his disclaimer, Arwen," Legolas countered immediately. "He is the most sought-after dancer in Mirkwood!"

Warmed by Thoronthalion's kindness towards her little brother and his humble, genteel demeanor, Arwen's heart stirred, and she gave him a smile that bespoke her admiration.

"No poor alternative are you then, my lord prince; it is I who am privileged to have your company," she replied sweetly. "Come, let us move away and grant Estel his desire!"

"Grant Estel his 'zire!" the child tried to repeat as he watched Thalion and Arwen walk off to join the other dancers. Legolas looked over Estel's curly head at Elrond and Gilraen, who shared his amusement and perplexity. The golden elf sighed.

"Very well, my little friend," he said to the boy. "Dance we shall then, and you shall be my favorite partner for the night!"

At those words, Estel lost his pout and gave Legolas such a dazzling smile on his wet cheeks that the elf immediately felt glad for having consented to the boy's request. "Indeed, my little one, I would rather dance with you than anyone else here tonight," Legolas whispered, and the smile grew even brighter.

So Estel clung on to Legolas as the elf moved to the music, turning, dipping and straightening, and swinging the boy around so that the childish laughter of pure joy pealed through the night air for close to an hour. And no matter how tired the elf surely must have been, he would not release Estel to his mother or foster father, knowing how disappointed the child would be.

Gilraen watched with motherly affection as the lights of the silver lamps glanced off the face and hair of her little son, and tears escaped her eyes as she noted how she had never seen him more contented than tonight, when he was in the arms of the golden prince of Mirkwood. It saddened her to think of the coming morning, when Legolas would be departing for his home and her little boy's heart would break. Estel should have been in bed three hours ago, but she could not bring herself to intrude into his pure ecstasy tonight.

But finally, it was Estel's own yawn and drooping eyes that turned against him and caused him to fall asleep on Legolas' shoulder during a slow dance.

"Time for bed, my friend," Legolas said softly into the little ear near his lips, and when Estel turned his head to face him with half-parted lips, the elf felt such a surge of love for this little person that he placed his cheek against the warm forehead and breathed in the sweet scent of innocence only a slumbering child could possess.

"Allow me to send him to his room, my lady," he offered when Gilraen moved to retrieve her son from the elf's embrace. "It is no trouble."

"But I do not wish to take you away from the feast, young prince," the lady protested. "And you are one of the guests of honor."

Legolas looked across at where Thoronthalion was dancing in quiet delight with fair Arwen, and Alkarmenel was enjoying his wine with several other elves, and he smiled. "I think my brothers will do Lord Elrond's kindness enough justice at this feast," he said. "As for me, I think I have had my last dance, and I shall happily spend the rest of the night in the company of my exhausted partner."

As he turned to leave with Estel, Gilraen caught his arm, and when she looked at him, her eyes were swimming with gratitude. "Thank you, Legolas," she said softly. "Your heart is as beautiful as you look. Thank you."

A little while later, when Legolas tried to lower Estel on to his bed, he found himself having to disentangle his hair from the grasp of the little boy who held on to it even in sleep. Not wishing to disturb the peace of the slumber, the elf allowed several stubborn strands to remain in Estel's clutches, wincing only a little as they were pulled out from his scalp. Moistening a towel, he gently wiped the tear streaks off the smooth cheeks while the little boy slept on blissfully. Then the elf stretched himself out on the bed next to the child, propped his head up on one elbow and watched the smile of contentment on the face of the little human he had grown to love before he could even realize what was happening.

He suddenly found himself swallowing tears when he thought of his departure the next day, and how upset Estel would be. "I had better leave before you wake then, little one," he whispered. "I could not bear to hear you cry otherwise, or I might never be able to tear myself away."

Another fierce wave of affection surged through the elf, and he began to place light kisses on Estel's hair and forehead, his nose and cheeks and lips, and then his chubby hands fisted around the golden hair. Gazing at the long strands, a thought came to Legolas, and he gently and painstakingly extracted them from the boy's clutches. After retrieving them, he carefully braided them and knotted the ends together into a soft necklace. Then he lifted Estel's head and slipped it lovingly around the little neck.

"There, little one, now I will always be with you," he said, smiling. "The Valar keep you safe, dear Estel, till we meet again." He would have to see Thalion and Menel before he retired, to see if they would agree to an early start, for Estel's sake – and his own. They would have no objections, he thought, for they were eager to return to Mirkwood, too.

Legolas sighed. He took one last, lingering look at the little boy, then got up, and left the room.

The elf prince decided to finish his packing in order to take his mind off Estel, and as he retrieved the pouch with the green stone from the drawer, he thought about his naneth's message. He removed the green stone from the pouch, held it in his hand and gazed at it. Sitting on the bed with the broken stone in his palm, he reflected on the years of his young life and thought about how it was far from complete, for there was a yearning still waiting to be satisfied, even though he did not know what it was. Yet, he felt his time in Imladris seemed to have filled a gap in his life.

And as he recalled each of his days in the elf haven, he found himself wondering whether the fulfillment lay in the presence of the beautiful Evenstar, or in the company of a little human boy.

-----------------------00000000------------------------

At dawn the next morning, when the sky over Imladris was painted purple and gold and grey, and the trees were still blanketed in mist, Legolas and his brothers and their escort were already geared to depart. They wished to reach a particular point on their route before dark that night, and accepted only some _lembas_, fruit and dried meat for the journey instead of sitting down to a hot breakfast. Although no one alluded to it explicitly, they also understood Legolas' desire to steal away before little Estel awoke and rent all their hearts with his tears.

So Lord Elrond and his family, as well as Lady Gilraen and other elves of the House turned up to bid them a warm farewell at the stables.

"Do not wait another two hundred years before you visit again!" Elladan said, clapping Alkarmenel on the back.

"And pray do not attempt to wait that same length of time before gracing us again with your presence in Mirkwood," the prince replied, grinning.

Arwen kissed each of the princes warmly, and bid them all return whenever they wished. Her gaze lingered longest, it seemed, on the eldest brother, who seemed to be in a dream when she placed her lips on his cheek.

"Ride safely, my lord," she said quietly, though her eyes were shining. "And spare a thought for those you leave in Imladris."

"We shall, my lady," Thalion replied, bowing. "For we leave a fair house, in which dwell none fairer in all of Arda."

Elrond and Gilraen did not miss the exchange, noting the meaning behind the prince's clever words and committing them to heart even as they smiled upon Thranduil's oldest son.

"Please tell Estel farewell for me, my lady," Legolas said to Gilraen. "My heart grieves at _his_ coming grief, but I pray it will be short-lived."

The lady assured him that she would try her best to comfort Estel and begged him to return when he could. Then the princes gave their hosts their final words of thanks and mounted their steeds.

Riding slowly through the gates of the Haven, Legolas looked back at the room where he knew Estel lay slumbering in pleasant dreams. "I will see you again, Estel, perhaps in a few years," he whispered. "You will be all grown up when I return."

But the young prince did not know then just how soon he would be back.

* * *

_Thank you to all who sent in recent reviews. They're like fuel._


	8. Loss

_Reminder: this story has some AU elements in it. Not all events follow the exact time line in the books._

**Chapter 8**: **Loss**

The finch cocked her head and studied the singer before her. How was it possible that one of the two-legged could sing so well, she wondered, and then she found herself perched on a branch and listening to the silvery voice, although she had always been used to the two-legged beings stopping to listen to her.

This two-legged singer was no stranger, for he came to her tree ever so often, and they shared the refuge of the branches and leaves. But he seemed lost in thought today, and despite her chirping at him, he was too busy singing to pay her much attention. So she sat and listened patiently while she preened herself.

Suddenly, the singing stopped.

"A year, my feathered friend," the singer said instead, finally turning to his one-bird audience and ruffling his feathers with one gentle finger. "It's been a year since I heard that song played in the beautifully lit gardens of Imladris, a year since I saw Arwen…and held dear Estel in my arms, in the most enjoyable dance of the night." A wistful smile came over his face and he looked at the finch. "Have I told you about Estel?"

_Only every day since you returned_, the finch chirped, shaking its head.

Legolas laughed. "What are you saying, my friend?" he asked, "that I talk too much about him?" He leaned back on the branch, with his hands behind his head. "Aaah, there never was a child like him – and none closer to my heart. Even after a year, I still cannot understand how a little human boy could mean so much to me," he said softly, "or why I cannot forget him... I wonder how he is… I miss his laugh."

The elf's blue eyes looked absently through the foliage above him. Many times in the past year, he had thought about his time in Imladris and the people he had grown to love there, and he felt his life blessed. A letter had arrived from Arwen two months after he returned to Mirkwood, informing him about how the whole family had had to console Estel the morning he awoke and found Le'las gone, and how it had taken a whole week of coaxing, a new bow and set of little arrows, new pets, and keeping the child occupied with rides in the woods and exhausting activities, before he would stop hounding Elladan and Elrohir every hour to take him to Le'las' home "where the big spiders live!"

The elf prince smiled as he imagined his name being called by that childish voice: Le'las! Le'las!

He grew warm at the fond memory of a mirthful little boy, running around and speaking his mind without the slightest pretence, and looking at his Le'las like the elf was his whole world.

_Le'las… Le'las…_

"Legolas!"

The young prince sat up with a start.

"Legolas!" the call came again. "Come down, _tithen pen_."

It was Alkarmenel calling for him – and his tone was not one of ease. Legolas peeked through the leaves and saw his brother approaching the tree quickly, not bothering to feign ignorance of Legolas' location as Thalion usually did. The look on his brother's face made Legolas' heart miss a beat. Something was wrong.

"Legolas – you need to return home now," Alkarmenel said, peering at his brother's anxious face through the dancing leaves. "A message has come from Imladris, tithen pen. Something has happened."

The finch was startled at the sudden disappearance of the two-legged singer from his seat on the branch, a disappearance marked only by a rustling of leaves as he leapt down and began to run back to the Palace Caves with the other two-legged being. _What could be wrong_, the finch wondered.

--xx00xx--

There was no sound more heartbreaking to Lord Elrond than the melancholic whimpers of a child carried to him on a sad breeze through the open windows of his study. The quiet sobs left him weaker and more vulnerable than a thousand orcs ever could, and he felt helpless.

At least it is better than total silence from him, he thought gratefully.

For days, silence, lassitude and unresponsiveness were all they had got out of little Estel since the news arrived. Perhaps it was because he was too young to realize the full impact immediately, or perhaps he had been too shocked to accept what he had been told. How could a child fully grasp what it meant to have his beloved mother – the anchor of his life – torn cruelly from him at such a tender age? How could he even begin to understand why the gentle, loving person who had protected him had not been able to defend herself against the hard, ruthless orcs who had killed her?

Estel could not understand, and so he had kept quiet, unable to express the longing for her that he felt. But when he had continued to seek his mother at night and found her always absent, and when he could no longer find the comforting arms he had always been cuddled in, the questions had come fast and furious, and the crying had begun. Frantic, heart-rending cries had filled many moments of the days that followed, drawing tears from even the hardest of warriors in the elven refuge and leaving a grieving elf lord at a loss for words or actions that could comfort the devastating fear of the little orphan. As loved as Estel was, none could replace the one soul who had borne him into the world and built her world around him.

Then, when Estel had cried himself out, he had grown quiet again and lost all desire for food or mirth or company, and he would allow only Arwen and his adar and foster brothers to be with him. He spoke little and ceased responding to all the things that had once made him joyful and curious, and withdrew into himself. Sometimes, he would sit by himself and look intently at the stuffed animals his mother had made for him, and tears would leak quietly from his stormy blue-grey eyes. But he would speak no more about her to anyone.

Lord Elrond shook his head sadly as he roused himself from the sorrowful thoughts. He looked up as Estel and Arwen came into view outside his window, and he heard his daughter coaxing the boy to eat some food. But Estel was walking away, refusing the meal. Whimpering, he stopped abruptly in his tracks and sat on the grass, and when Arwen tried to feed him, he lowered himself further and lay sprawled on his stomach, covering his face and mouth with his hands.

Elrond's thoughts drifted then to Mirkwood. Glorfindel and Elrohir would have reached the Palace Caves by now and would be conveying his request to the Elven King. There had seemed no choice; the sight of Estel deteriorating into a shadow had frightened him, and in desperation, the family had decided to call upon the one person who might be able to reach Estel in his loneliness and sorrow: his beloved Le'las.

"Please come, Legolas," the Lord of Imladris pleaded in a whisper. "And come soon – before we lose Estel."

--xx00xx--

In the Palace Cave of King Thranduil, Legolas' heart pounded as, with grave faces, he and his family listened to the tale of Lady Gilraen's death told by the elf lord with the golden hair that Estel had called "Gorfy."

"The Shadow is indeed growing again in the East, and Middle-earth faces the threat of being taken over by it," Glorfindel explained. "We cannot know the exact nature of the threat – how and where it will come, and in what form – but for more than a year, I have been gathering reports from scouts. Orcs are roaming the land again, and there are rumors of trouble in the South where Rohan and Gondor lie."

"There has also been talk of some small item – a ring of power – that the Shadow in the East is beginning to seek," Elrohir continued. "If it is found and wielded by he who created it, it would bode very ill for Middle-earth and all the free peoples who live here."

"Isildur's Bane, it is called," Glorfindel added. "I believe Lord Elrond has spoken of it to you?" He looked at the royal family of Mirkwood, and they all nodded.

"Not the tale in its entirety," Thandruil replied, "but enough to know that Estel – the little child, heir of Isildur – has some part to play in it."

"A vital part, in fact," Elrohir confirmed, "for, with the rising threat from the Dark Lord, it looks more and more likely that he must grow up to unite the lands that were once under the realm of Gondor and make a stand against Sauron. No one save the true king of the realm will be able to perform that task."

"It is thus even more imperative now to keep Estel safe in Imladris till he can grow up and pursue his destiny," Glorfindel said. "And that is why Lady Gilraen… " His voice faltered at the memory before he took a deep breath and forced himself to continue. "That is why she had decided to seek out the Rangers – the remnants of Estel's Numenorean kin – to give them this news, and also to discuss the need for her to stay away from Estel, so that attention would not be drawn to him."

The elf lord stopped speaking then, but no one pressed him to go on, knowing what would come next.

"That was when the orcs… attacked her… as well as the two elves who were accompanying her," Elrohir finished for Glorfindel. "They never had a chance – there were just too many… and they did not expect it…"

Further questions did not seem necessary, and it was enough for now to know the tragedy that had befallen Imladris – and the son of Gilraen and Arathorn.

"Estel," Legolas said, swallowing, his eyes wide with anxiety for the child. "How is he?"

Elrohir returned Legolas' look with a sad expression of his own. "He is why we have come, Legolas," he replied. "Not only to deliver the news, but also to beg you to return with us – for the sake of one who seems to love you as much as he did his mother."

Even without further explanation, all who had heard those words understood the implications of the message.

"He needs you, Legolas," Elrohir stated simply. "Valar knows what hold you have on him, mellon nin, but Adar thinks – and we all agree – that you are the only one with any hope of making Estel whole again."

Legolas looked at his father and brothers, and by the time Elrohir asked "Will you come?" – the prince was already out of the room, packing a few clothes and issuing orders to the guards to prepare horses for the journey to Imladris.

--xx00xx--

Unlike the first time, this journey to Imladris seemed to Legolas to go much slower and take much longer. Only the voice of reason had stopped him from departing from Mirkwood as soon as Elrohir had said that Estel needed him, for the two Imladris elves had ridden for more than two weeks to reach Mirkwood, and they needed a night's rest at least. But as soon as the next day had dawned, the youngest elf prince was already on his horse and waiting impatiently for his companions to finish breakfast so that they could set off.

Only Thoronthalion and five other elves went with him this time, but none seemed to ride swiftly enough for Legolas. The pace felt too slow, the stops seemed too long, and all foods tasted the same to the elf prince. His deep concern for Estel surpassed even that of Elrohir's, and it drove them all, despite exhaustion, to hold on just a little longer and ride just a little further each day. And still, their destination seemed too distant to the anxious prince.

But one day, the fair valley of Imladris loomed into view as they rode to the top of the ridge overlooking the vale: a scene hidden behind the enchantment of Lord Elrond, that no mortal eyes would see even if they looked from the same vantage point.

Nothing would stop Legolas' wild, determined ride to the gates of the refuge then, and hours later, before the lunch bell rang, he was being greeted warmly by a highly relieved Lord Elrond and Elladan. Tired, hungry and a little disheveled from the long journey, the elves trooped behind Elladan in anticipation of a cleansing bath, hot food and welcome rest.

Legolas, however, felt not weariness nor hunger, for he had no other thought than meeting with the child he had ridden so far to see.

"Please, my lord, let the others take some rest as they wish, but I wish to see him," he asked of Elrond, and the genuine anxiety in his blue eyes moved the elf lord to humble gratitude.

"Come then; I believe he is in his room, with Arwen," Elrond replied sadly, and led the way, though Legolas was already familiar with that wing of the house. Thoronthalion went with his brother, for he too wished to visit with Estel – and the mention of Arwen had further encouraged his company.

As they neared the door to Estel's room, it opened, and out stepped Arwen. Despite her obvious tiredness and worry, she was as beautiful as when the princes had last seen her, and as warm in her welcome. Ignoring their formal and polite bows, she smiled radiantly and held out both hands to Thoronthalion before reaching up to kiss him on the cheek and drawing a blush from him. Then she moved to Legolas and, without decorum, flung her arms around his neck before bursting into tears of relief.

"Thank the Valar you've come!" she sobbed into his tunic, her long-suppressed fears for Estel coming out in a rush of broken phrases. "Es - Estel is all but lost – to us – he just – refused – food – yet again – I tried – do not know – to do – I tried – help him, Legolas – must – eat – how – tried everything – help – "

Stunned by the sudden outburst of desperation from Arwen, Legolas looked helplessly at Thoronthalion, who desired nothing more than to console the distraught lady elf but was hesitant about what he should do.

"I am here, Arwen, I'm here," Legolas said soothingly before Lord Elrond drew his daughter away gently.

"Let Legolas go to him now, Arwen," the elf lord said, and Arwen nodded through her tears.

"The food – table – would not touch – try –" she continued to sob. "Just a child… he's just a – child –"

Her words deepened the pity already in all their hearts, and her sorrow was their own. With an expression of soft concern on his face, Elrond turned and knocked softly on the room door. "Estel?" he called before he turned the knob and stepped in. The two elf princes followed quietly – and then they both gasped.

A thin, waif-like Estel was lying on his side on his bed, holding a stuffed toy horse to his chest, his fingers playing absently with something at his neck. His eyes were half-closed, and he looked so pale, forlorn and listless that Legolas' heart gave a painful lurch, and tears sprang unbidden to his eyes. He felt rent asunder at the torment the child must have gone through the past month. He wished he had been there earlier.

Estel did not seem to have seen him yet, and Elrond moved aside to let him approach the bed while the others waited near the door, but the boy looked so removed from what was going on that Legolas suddenly felt nervous.

Will he even remember me? the elf wondered silently. He is just a child… will he have forgotten me?

At that moment, Estel's eyes moved, and he looked towards the door, having heard his adar call his name. But what he saw there made his eyes widen in surprise and disbelief on his thinning face. He blinked a few times – but the person he thought he saw was still standing there. He pushed himself up into a sitting position and stared at the vision, his grey eyes filled with anguish. His lips started to quiver as a small whimper escaped them, and the stuffed toy fell weakly from his hands.

Legolas felt as if a knife was going through him, so keen was his sorrow over the sight of the child he loved, and he had to control his voice from shaking as he whispered tentatively: "Estel?"

The next instant, Estel broke out in tears and clambered off the bed with all the strength left in his little body to run to the elf he had missed so terribly. But he never made more than a few steps from the bed, for Legolas had closed the distance between them in two long strides and swung him off the floor to hold him tightly in his long arms.

Being in the arms of his Le'las was the trigger Estel needed to release all the fear and confusion he had kept inside for the past month, and the tears flowed freely from his eyes as he wept his sorrow loudly into the shoulder he had sought without knowing it.

Feeling the little fingers clinging desperately to him, Legolas held him close and planted kisses on the child's hair and ears and cheeks and wherever he could reach. He wept with the little orphan, sharing his grief, for he too had lost a mother. And all who looked upon them wept with them. Thalion, in particular, shed tears when he recalled how baby Legolas had cried for days when he had wanted his naneth – but she was to be found no more.

For an hour after that, Legolas simply sat in an armchair in the room, holding the child and forgetting his own hunger and exhaustion from the long journey. Few words were exchanged, but as the shadows grew long, he sang softly to Estel and whispered to him how much he had missed him, till Estel's crying was reduced to quiet sobs and it finally ceased.

When Estel had grown quiet and calm, Lord Elrond and the other elves who had gathered outside the room breathed in relief. For the first time in many days, Arwen felt her heart truly lighten.

"Now, let us hope Estel's healing can begin," Elrond said in a hopeful tone. He asked the other elves to leave the room and hallway so that the boy could be alone with Legolas, and he asked for fresh food and drink to be brought up for the elf prince who he knew would need refreshment.

"Come, my lord," Arwen said to Thoronthalion, leading him away. "The worst may be over for Estel; let us find you some nourishment."

With a last glance at Legolas in the armchair and his fair face resting against Estel's dark hair, the Crown Prince accepted his hostess' invitation and followed her lead. Lord Elrond was the only one who remained, standing discreetly and silently outside the door where he would be able to see and hear what went on inside without intruding.

When they were alone in the room, Legolas thought about how he could help the sorrowful child overcome his grief. But before he could say anything, Estel threw him a question.

"Why did you go away for so long, Le'las?" he asked sadly without lifting his head. "I missed you."

Taken aback, Legolas held the child closer and replied: "I had to go home to where my father is, and where my duties are, dear Estel. But I am here now, with you." The elf stroked the dark locks. "Does that make you happy, little one?"

Estel nodded shyly, and he wrapped strands of Legolas' golden hair around his fingers as he had done a year ago. "I like you here, Le'las – grant Estel his 'zire," he said, recalling what he thought he had heard Arwen say on the night Legolas had danced with him.

Legolas' eyebrows knitted for a moment as he tried to understand; then he smiled when he remembered. "Yes, Estel: I am here to grant your desire," he said warmly. "I am with you now."

Estel said nothing in reply, but he snuggled deeper into Legolas' arms.

"You miss her, don't you?" the elf asked quietly and tentatively. Lord Elrond, listening outside, waited tensely for Estel's reply.

But only silence came in response, and Estel was still for so long that Legolas began to berate himself for possibly having asked the wrong question.

"Yes, I do," the child said at last, and Legolas released a sigh. "I don't know where she's gone. I don't know why she left."

The sorrow in the little voice cut into the heart of the elf lord listening outside the door. It hurt to hear Estel voice his confusion, but it was necessary for the little boy to confront his feelings.

Inside the room, the elf rested his cheek against Estel's hair. "That is what I used to ask about my _naneth_ too, Estel. Remember I told you I lost her?"

The boy nodded without looking up.

"All we can be certain about is that they would never have wanted to leave us, Estel – you can be sure your mother did not ever wish to leave you." Legolas said reassuringly. "But bad things happen, and sometimes bad things take away those we love."

"That's what Arwen said," Estel said. "I wish Mama hadn't left. I wish she were still here."

"But she is, Estel. Both our mothers are always with us – in here," Legolas said, slipping his hand in between them to rest it first on his heart, then Estel's. "And you know," he added, "I think your _naneth _and mine will meet each other some day."

That remark made the little head leave the elven shoulder. Estel pulled away a little so that he could look at Legolas with wide eyes. "Really?" he breathed.

Legolas swallowed at the sight of the pale face that had lost too much of its fullness. "Yes, truly," he answered, hiding his anxiety and smiling at the child. "They will probably become good friends, just like we are."

That thought seemed to bring Estel some cheer, for a weak smile appeared on his face – the first that Elrond had seen in over a month, and the sight brought a tear to his eye as he watched from outside.

"Do you think they will do things together, like we do?" Estel asked earnestly.

"They may very well do that," Legolas replied, encouraged by the brightening of the face before him. "Who knows? They may even read together sometimes – and eat together," Legolas continued, running his fingers through the dark curls. "And speaking of eating… would you know, I have not eaten much the past few days, and I feel a little hungry. Do we have any food around here, Master Estel of Imladris?"

The smile on the young face grew wider. "You're teasing me, Le'las!" Estel said. "I know you can see the food over there!" He pointed his finger – now less chubby than before – to the food an elf had quietly brought in earlier.

Legolas turned to the food he knew was there and feigned surprise. "Why, I believe you are right! Mmm – it smells delicious!" he said. "Do you think it is meant for me – or for you?"

Estel looked at the food, appearing to weigh a decision in his mind. "We can both eat it," he said, and Legolas and Elrond had to stop themselves from jumping in delight.

"Well, since this is your home, Master Estel," Legolas said evenly, "will you be my host and invite this hungry guest to your meal?"

The child searched his memory for a response his mother or Arwen or his adar would have given. "It would be my pleasure," he said at last. Then he screwed up his nose and said almost shyly, "but you have to cut up the meat for me."

Legolas laughed, and only the little burden on his lap prevented him from reaching the ceiling in his joy. "That, Estel, would be my pleasure!" he said.

Thus it was that Estel consumed the first meal of any substance in a month, and enjoyed it. As they ate, Legolas engaged him in conversation about things he had learned over the last year, so that he fed the hunger that he had not realized he had. But Legolas noted every morsel that the child ate, and vowed to see the child return to his former state of health and vigor.

Also watching Estel eat was Lord Elrond, whose heart overflowed with gratitude towards the elf prince. And when the other elves came quietly back to the child's room, their hearts leapt to hear soft laughter coming from within as Estel recounted his exploits of the past year to an attentive Le'las. The child faltered only when he had to mention his departed mother, but Legolas always found a way to gently help him get past that the stumbling blocks.

Then, before the sun set that day, Legolas took Estel out on to the grounds of Imladris, where he pleased the child by pronouncing him taller than when he had last seen him. And there, Estel met Thoronthalion again and alleviated the anguish of his family with the smile they had sorely missed. By the time they went back indoors, Estel was already feeling sleepy, tired out from his excitement over Legolas' return.

"You're not leaving again, Le'las, are you?" Estel asked worriedly as he toweled himself after the hot bath he let Legolas give him.

"No, Estel," Legolas replied, helping the boy to put on his night clothes. "I will be here when you awake tomorrow, and I will be staying here for a while."

With that assurance, Estel allowed himself to close his eyes and relax. His mother might not be present anymore, but Le'las was here, and he could sleep again. Once more, his little fingers fidgeted at the collar of his shirt before he fell asleep in the arms of the golden prince. As Legolas laid him down carefully on the bed, he realized what it was that Estel's fingers so frequently sought: it was the little necklace of golden elven hair that he had made and tied around the child's neck a year ago.

"He never takes it off," said Arwen from behind him, startling the elf prince with her sudden appearance despite the low tone of her voice. She lowered herself gracefully on to the seat of the bed and studied the innocent face of the child in slumber.

"Peace is written again on his face, Legolas," she observed, her eyes misting over. "And it is because of you." She looked at Legolas with a smile. "What power do you wield, Legolas?" she asked in awe. "What hold do you have over him?"

Legolas locked gazes with her for a few moments before he turned his eyes back to the child, and placed his hand lightly over a little one.

"It must be love," he said.

* * *

_**Cry Silver Tears**_ _and other reviewers who did not leave email adds - thank you for your compliments, remarks, pleas and tears. _:)


	9. Growing Up

**Chapter 9: Growing up **

In the next few weeks after the two princes of Mirkwood returned to Imladris, no one in the elf haven could doubt the love that had grown between their little human charge and the youngest elf prince of Mirkwood.

In his Le'las, Estel found strength to overcome his grief, and a reason to be happy again. He regained his appetite and his boundless energy, and the shadows left his face, much to the relief of Lord Elrond and his family. The child could smile again, brightening their lives once more and filling the hallways of the elven home with his laughter. But he never left Legolas' side except in sleep.

"I must stay for a while longer, Thalion," the elf prince said to his brother one day when Estel had gone to bed. "I cannot leave him now, not while he is still becoming his old self. He still needs me."

Thoronthalion's brows knitted in a slight frown as the chilly breeze of a crisp Fall blew in through the windows and ruffled the golden hair of his youngest brother. "It cannot be for too much longer, _tithen pen,_" he said. "The passes will be snowed over soon and we must return before then, or we will have to wait many more months. _Adar _will not be pleased."

Turning his face to the beautiful night outside, Legolas stood from his seat and walked over to the window. His eyes roamed the star-studded sky till he found one particular Lamp: the brightest object in the night sky.

"See the Star of Earendil, Thalion?" he said, pointing to it. Thalion walked over to his brother and quickly found the star that every elf knew. "In the next room lies his descendant, the only one left of his bloodline, and the only one who can unite the race of Men, as Lord Elrond has said. He is the hope of Middle-earth – and he almost faded into nothingness because of a grief that befell him at such a tender age, a grief he should never have had to bear."

Thalion fell silent, knowing that his brother had more to say. "For some reason that I cannot fathom, he has found some reason to go on since I came back to him," Legolas continued. "Because of my presence, the noble line of Earendil and Isildur that has all but perished, still lives. Their heir still grows, and by the grace of the Valar, he will continue to thrive here in the House of Lord Elrond." Legolas turned to his brother, and the look in his eyes was one of determination. "But he needs me a little longer, Thalion. If I leave now, he will fall back into despair. Don't ask me how I know; I just know. I feel it! Let me stay a while, please – it is no burden for me. It is the least I can do for the future of Arda, and for Estel himself, for he holds part of my heart."

Thalion gazed at the bright glimmer in the eyes of the young elf he had always protected and held to be an innocent child who could not know the dangers beyond his home. Yet here he was: thinking not of himself, but of the fate of Middle-earth itself. He understood the role Estel had to play, and he was ready to do his part in ensuring that the son of Arathorn grew up to claim his birthright. The eldest prince of Mirkwood drew a deep breath and smiled.

"Ai, when did _you_ grow up, little one?" he said fondly, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. "When did you start to think about the destiny of all the lands you have never even seen?"

Legolas blushed and lowered his head. "Do not tease me, Thalion."

Thalion laughed and pulled his brother close to kiss his forehead. "I do not tease you, Legolas," he said sincerely. "I am simply proud of you, for tonight, you seem to me to have grown several decades."

"I am more than four hundred years old, Thalion," Legolas reminded him, wriggling out of his hold. "You just never saw it."

Thalion laughed lightly. "Perhaps you are right, Legolas," he admitted. "You have your own mind now, and it speaks reason. Very well, dear one, you will stay the winter."

The bright smile that lit Legolas' face told the older prince he was making the right decision and it was worth the reprimand he might receive from their father later.

"But you will still not be out of my sight yet, Legolas – I will stay here with you," Thalion stated. "The others can return tomorrow – I will send a message to _Adar, _and hope he understands."

No argument came from Legolas, who was pleased that he would not only be staying, but also have Thalion's company as well, so he agreed with whatever Thalion proposed. So it was that Thalion and Legolas spent the winter in Imladris, and there was no happier soul that cold winter than that of Estel, whose whole life revolved around the golden elf prince and found meaning in each day of his young life.

The whole of Imladris rejoiced and watched in satisfaction as Estel regained his vigor, his confidence and his love of learning. From him sprang a sudden interest in herblore and the healing arts, and in him, Elrond found a most enthusiastic student, even at that young age. The child excitedly practiced his new-found, childish skills on birds with broken wings, and eagerly bandaged the legs of rabbits that had absolutely nothing wrong with them, much to the amusement and pride of his foster father. When he had run out of rabbits, the long-suffering elves of Elrond's household became his 'patients', willingly indulging the young healer's new-found passion. Nary a day went by when Legolas did not have some part of his body wrapped with a little bandage soaked in some poultice or other, but the elf prince endured it all with an easy heart.

Arwen spent more and more time with her guests and grew closer to both princes. But it was her fondness for Thoronthalion that eventually became obvious to all who were around them. The soft-spoken Crown Prince of Mirkwood had initially been too bashful to acknowledge it, but the blossoming relationship could not be long denied, and the turning point came when Legolas unwittingly caught them stealing a kiss one day.

"Well, it is pointless to keep it further hidden," Thalion said, stopping his brother from walking away with a guilty look on his face. He took Arwen's fair hands and kissed them gently, looking deep into her eyes. "We will have to return to Mirkwood soon, and I would like to spend these remaining weeks with you, Arwen – openly, without fear of embarrassment."

As a blushing Arwen lowered her head and smiled, Legolas knew that the affection was mutual. He gave his brother and the Evenstar a quick embrace before wishing them well and leaving them to their private moment. He walked back to his room, feeling quite thrilled, for he wished only joy for the brother he idolized. Reaching his room, he withdrew his little velvet pouch from the dresser drawer and sat on his bed, staring at it. With a little shake of the pouch, the Green Stone fell out of it onto his hand, where it sat being contemplated upon by the elf prince.

"Well, it does not appear that you will find your mate with the lovely Evenstar," he mused, smiling, "but there is no one else I would rather see as her companion, for I love them both. As for you…" he spoke to the Stone as if it could hear him, "your fate – and mine – lie somewhere else, I fear." He cocked his shapely head and smiled at the gem. "Some day I, too, will find someone to complete my life, and if you are indeed the guide to my future – you had better give me a clear sign."

Suddenly feeling foolish over talking to a stone, he laughed and returned it to the pouch, and just as he was fastening the drawstrings, a little voice broke into his thoughts, and the sound of little feet came running down the hallway.

"Le'las! Are you there, Le'las?" The door of the elf's room flew open, and a bright smile appeared beneath a mass of dark curls and shining grey eyes. "Le'las, I was looking for you, it's time for my archery lesson!"

Estel ran up to Legolas, who beamed a radiant smile at the child. The prince stood and quickly put away the pouch before ruffling the dark hair.

"It is indeed, Estel," Legolas remarked, leading the way out of his room. "You have been doing so well and growing up so quickly that I will hardly be able to recognize you when I next see you."

Estel stopped in his tracks. "When you next see me?" he asked, the joy leaving his face. "Are you leaving again, Le'las?"

Legolas thought for a moment before he knelt and enveloped the boy in a warm embrace. "I told you that I would have to return to my own home eventually, Estel, before the next Fall, remember?" he said gently. "The time has come, and I must go before the snows fall again and close the passes."

No answer came from Estel, whose face was pressed against Legolas' collar, his arms wrapped tightly around the elf's neck and his hands clutching the golden hair he loved.

"I remember," the childish voice said at last, beginning to tremble with unshed tears. "But I don't want you to go."

"I know," Legolas said softly, his heart already torn apart at the thought of leaving the child. "But I have to. You are growing up, and in my own way, so am I. I will have to take on responsibilities and learn new things, and I have been away from my _adar _for a year. He will wish to see me, too."

"Take me with you, Le'las," Estel said.

Legolas gasped at the request and held Estel even more tightly. "I… I wish I could, dear Estel," he said, swallowing the sorrow he felt. How was he going to explain to the young heir of Gondor that he had to remain in Imladris for his own safety, that he had to remain in hiding from the Dark Lord who sought to put an end to his life? "Mirkwood is a very different realm, and the journey there is long and a little dangerous," he said eventually.

"But you live there!' Estel argued, raising his eyes to meet the elven ones. "Why can't I go there?"

"You will, when you are older," Legolas assured him, cupping his face in his long hands. "But the home of Lord Elrond is truly the best place for you to grow up in, Estel." When the grey eyes began to tear again, Legolas added: "And, do not forget, your _adar _is the greatest healer in Middle-earth. You will get no better teacher as long as you stay here. No one in Mirkwood – or anywhere else – will be able to teach you what he can!"

Legolas' reminder about the skill of Lord Elrond was a turning point in the conversation, for Estel had developed such a love for the healing arts that he stopped to consider what he would be missing if he were away from Imladris.

"And I promise that when I next see you, you can practice tying your longest bandage on me!" Legolas added, hoping to make Estel feel better about abandoning the idea of going to Mirkwood. He began to worry when Estel merely stared at him, but in the grey eyes, Legolas could see a hundred thoughts tumbling over each other.

"You won't forget me?" the child asked at last in a small voice, holding the elf's gaze.

Legolas smiled in relief and held Estel again. "I could not forget you if I tried, dear Estel," he replied with genuine conviction. "I love you, you know that, and I will count the days till we meet again. But you must stay here and grow up well, and when you are old enough, we will be able to meet more often, here or in Mirkwood. Would that not please you?"

The huge smile that appeared on the young face and the firm hug Estel gave him were the only answers the elf prince needed.

Thus it was that with the first fall of red and golden leaves and the first chill of Autumn that year, Thoronthalion and Legolas left Imladris for their return to Mirkwood. Arwen and the elder prince had shared a quiet moment together at dawn, and Estel put on a brave face at the farewell before the Gates, one hand holding on tightly on to Arwen's, and the other fingering the necklace of golden hair around his little neck.

"Be safe and be at peace, Estel," Legolas whispered as he waved to the boy. "You will be a young man soon, and I will not forget you."

--xx00xx--

After the princes' return to Mirkwood, Thoronthalion had spoken to Thranduil about how Legolas' concerns seemed to have extended far beyond the borders of Mirkwood, and suggested that he was ready to take on heavier responsibilities.

Thus, for the next twelve years, the youngest prince was kept occupied with various duties that his father had begun to entrust to him. He paid frequent visits to Dale on behalf of his father, and began to lead patrols in the dark forests south of the realm when the need arose. Indeed, the need grew greater with each passing year, for rumors of the rise of Sauron grew stronger. Every elf in Mirkwood had to be on the alert for unexpected intrusions from potential foes.

Legolas often came back weary from such patrols and assignments, wanting nothing more than to rest in quiet solitude in his favorite tree beside the lake. But as weary as he was after each trip from home, he never failed to read immediately the letters he received from Imladris that told him about how Estel's life was progressing and how he was becoming a skilled little healer in his own right. Estel himself wrote on occasion, telling his Le'las when he began wielding a sword, and when Elladan and Elrohir started to teach him how to track. Legolas cherished each letter he received, and sometimes, he would see in his dreams a little dark-haired boy with bright grey eyes holding yards of bandages in one hand and a little sword in the other. Then he would realize that Estel – if his destiny was fulfilled – would one day be both a mighty King and a skilled healer, and the elf prince would pray to the Valar to keep the young human safe.

Letters from Imladris did not come only for Legolas, for Thoronthalion and Arwen's love blossomed as well. Legolas would sometimes sit and talk to Thalion about the elven refuge and about visiting it again.

But their own realm was facing its own threats even as trade with the Men of Dale thrived, and both these developments kept the princes busy. A delegation from Dale was in fact due to arrive the following evening, and Legolas had been assigned to receive them and conduct the business.

After breakfast the next morning, there was a knock on the prince's door, and he opened it to find the King's valet with a message for him.

"You have visitors, my prince," the elf said. "The King sends for you."

Legolas was surprised. "Are they already here?" he wondered. "They were expected to arrive later today, but it is no matter; please tell the King I will be there shortly."

After dressing himself in more formal clothes, the prince made his way to the throne room. Upon hearing voices within, he could tell that both his brothers were already with the King, engaged in a conversation with others. But he stopped outside the closed doors, knitting his brows in puzzlement.

"I was told the visitors had arrived?" he asked the guards standing outside.

"They have, my lord," the elf answered.

The prince frowned. "But I hear only Sindarin within; since when have the Men of Dale learned our language?" he asked.

The guard seemed perplexed at his question, but before he had a chance to answer, Legolas straightened his bearing, opened the doors and walked in, looking every inch the prince he was and determined to do his father proud at the negotiations.

As soon as he had stepped into the room, however, the blue eyes of the prince widened in surprise. He had expected to see the familiar faces of the Men from Dale he had previously dealt with, but the only familiar faces he saw besides his father's and brothers' were those of Elladan and Elrohir.

"_Mae govannen_, my friends! This is a wonderful surprise!" he exclaimed in delight, as he rushed forward to embrace both elves warmly. "No wonder I heard the Elvish tongue. You're no Men of Dale!"

"No, we're certainly not Men, and neither are we from Dale," Elladan said laughingly. "You look splendid, young prince!"

After the initial astonishment and an exchange of pleasantries – all genuinely expressed – Legolas voiced a question very dear to his heart. "Tell me, my friends, how is Estel?" he asked, his voice softening even as he mentioned the name. "Does he fare well?"

The twins exchanged a quick glance before turning back to Legolas with wide smiles and twinkles in their eyes.

"Your answer lies behind you, Greenleaf," Elrohir said, indicating with a gesture of his head that Legolas should turn around.

Legolas swung around, wondering what it was Elrohir was referring to – and he gasped. In his initial excitement at seeing the twins from Imladris, he had walked straight towards them, failing to notice a figure standing silently in the slight shadow of a tall plant near the large window of the room.

But the elf saw him clearly now when he walked forward: a strikingly handsome young male – obviously a Man – with a strong, sensitive jaw and a becoming cleft in his chin, standing tall and straight in well-tailored clothes that did not hide his lean, muscular form. Legolas felt his heart skip a beat as his mouth went dry: it seemed he had never seen a more attractive Man. What truly mesmerized him, however, were the eyes in the young face: shining grey eyes, full of a kind of knowing beyond his years, yet young with wonder for the world yet to be seen, and with a depth of passion that made them irresistible.

Legolas' own beautiful eyes went round, and his delicate lips fell open with mute astonishment. He could only watch in paralyzed awe as the captivating Man approached him, smiling gently. When the Man was only a foot away from the prince, he bowed slightly without losing any of his bearing, and said quietly: "_Mae govannen_, Legolas."

Still dumbstruck, and held immobile by those passionate grey eyes, Legolas could only continue to gape. He could hear the light laughter around him, heard footsteps approach him from behind, and felt the light touch of a hand on his shoulder. But he said nothing.

"What is the matter, young prince?" Elladan asked, clearly amused. "You wished to know how Estel is faring, did you not? Ask the one before you now."

More light laughter reached the prince's ears.

"You look stunned, Legolas," Elladan spoke again. "Do you not know him?"

_Can this be him?_ Legolas' mind asked.

_Yes, it is_, his heart replied.

Legolas knew, his eyes knew, and his whole being sang in the knowledge, but still he could say nothing, for his tongue was tied.

So Elladan said it for him: "This young man before you, Legolas, is the person you have been asking about. This is – this _was_ – your little Estel."

And 'little' Estel melted the heart of his beloved Le'las with a smile that rivaled the sun over Mirkwood.

* * *

_Thanks very, very much to all those who reviewed the last chapter. Matthieu - hope you're still reading. _:)

_A special hug for Fluffytail, who died waiting for this update (during the first round of posting). I hope this chapter revived you._ : )


	10. Turning Point

**Chapter 10: Turning Point**

There is very little effect that a span of twelve years has on immortals, for that period of time is like the blink of an eye for the Firstborn. Indeed, as Legolas and Estel met again and looked fondly at each other in the throne room of Mrkwood, the other elves around them could not help noticing how the four-hundred-year old elf looked just as youthful and fresh as the newly matured son of Arathorn.

But here was Estel - a dozen years later: twelve years of height and flesh and maturity all embodied in this tall, lean and handsome man. He was a little bronzed from his time spent outdoors, for he had not the fair luminescence of elves, yet an elvish air was about him, and he spoke the Elvish tongue no differently from the foster family that had adopted him. His hair had grown long, falling in charming dark waves, and his face had developed a beautiful but manly character of its own.

Having grown up only among elves, Legolas was still full of wonder and disbelief at the changes, and his eyes ran up and down the tall man who had appeared like a dream before him, hundreds and hundreds of leagues away from where he thought 'little Estel' would be, where the elf had last seen him.

The little boy had grown up overnight, it seemed to Legolas. No more would he be picking up a laughing child who ran to him to be lifted high and swung around, for now this young man appeared strong enough to pick him up instead.

"It's been a long time, Legolas," Estel said, breaking into Legolas' musings. "How do you fare?"

_There will be no more screams of 'Le'las'_, the elf thought a little sadly, but Estel's mature voice – now a deeper one – was just as endearing, and full of a soft-spoken confidence that both pleased and surprised the prince.

"Estel," the prince breathed, hardly believing whom he was addressing. "You – you have grown up so quickly, and so well!"

The prince suddenly found Estel's smile disarming, and the grey eyes that changed in hue between slate-grey and blue seemed to penetrate his elven heart. But in those eyes and the genuine smile he found a semblance of the child he had spent time playing with and singing to sleep, and when the young man began to look nervous before him, all the fondness he had retained for the human child welled up in him, and he moved to envelope Estel in a warm, heartfelt embrace.

The years seemed to melt away as Estel wrapped his arms lovingly around the elf prince he had missed for too long, and they held each other without a word. Gone was the soapy scent of the little child; it was replaced with the exciting smell of leather and forest and Manhood, and the elf felt a stirring within himself that he could not understand. He only knew that his joy at seeing Estel again knew no bounds, and as the Royal family ushered their guests to the King's sitting room for light refreshment, Legolas proudly introduced Estel to the Mirkwood elves who joined them or served them.

"Estel will be twenty before we see the next summer," Elrohir told the family as they were sitting down. "_Adar _thought it time to bring Estel on a longer journey to polish his tracking skills, although he could not join us himself."

"And Arwen decided to stay with him, unfortunately," Elladan said, throwing Thoronthalion a knowing look and a grin, making the eldest prince cough and look away.

"Well, Elladan and I decided to come here," Elrohir continued, "so that he could learn the finer points of archery, for Mirkwood's archers are the best."

"And you are most welcome," Thranduil said from his seat, pleased at the acknowledgement of his archers' skills.

"Estel will be with Legolas a great deal of the time, then," Alkarmenel said, "for Legolas is our best!"

"That is not entirely true," Legolas objected modestly. "Menel, please don't – "

"It _is_ true. Legolas is just too modest to admit it," Alkarmenel said, ignoring his brother's embarrassment. "He will be the best teacher for you, Estel."

Estel's face brightened at the prospect, though he remained composed. "That would be wonderful," he said in his soft-spoken manner, looking at Legolas seated in front of him. "You taught me as a child, and I look forward to receiving more lessons from you, Legolas."

"It will work out just fine, then," Elladan said, smiling at the two friends. "You should know, Legolas, that Estel's real reason for wanting to come here was to see you."

"Then I am glad you have come, Estel," Legolas said, a warm thrill of joy going through him. "I have missed you, and I had half-wondered if, growing up, you might have forgotten me."

"Forgotten you? Huh!" Elrohir cried. "I think he has named every cuddly toy he has had after you since you left! He pestered us for your letters – "

"That is quite enough, Elrohir," Elladan chastised his brother as everyone chuckled, and Estel went red in the face. "Estel is a young man now, and those stories are best left in the past."

"I quite agree," said Thranduil, feeling a little sorry for Estel.

"But I do not," Legolas objected, to everyone's surprise. "I have missed many years of your life, Estel, and I would like nothing better than to hear about all you have done and learned."

"Then I'd be happy to relate everything to you," Estel said softly, beaming with quiet joy.

"Of course he would!" Elrohir said, rolling his eyes. "There is nothing you would wish that Estel would not fulfill, Greenleaf. Be careful you don't rue what you asked for – you may not be able to stop him, and he may be talking your ears off even in sleep."

"I have time," Legolas argued easily, to Estel's pleasure. "As soon as I finish dealing with the Men from Dale this afternoon, I will be able to talk with you at leisure."

"Then let us show our guests to their rooms and leave them to rest from their long journey," the King said, rising from his seat. "We will meet again at luncheon, of course. I hope you enjoy your stay."

The visitors from Imladris were soon settled in their rooms, with Elrohir and Elladan sharing one as was their practice, and Estel being assigned one close to Legolas' own chambers.

The youngest prince then seated himself in an armchair in Estel's room and asked the young man to fill in the twelve-year gap in their acquaintance with news of all that had taken place in Imladris since the princes' last visit. As he had promised, he listened attentively while Estel told him all about his first hunt, and his first set of bow and arrows, when his voice first broke, and the patients he had helped Lord Elrond treat. He talked about the first time he danced with an _elleth_, and the quiet places on the grounds of the elf haven that had become his favorite hideaways.

An hour and a half flew by while they talked, and throughout that time, Legolas could not take his eyes off the young man before him, trying to come to terms with this new and confident Estel. The elf watched his lips and his hands, and the dark hair falling in soft waves to his shoulders, the way his eyes sparkled, sometimes blue, sometimes grey, and again he wondered at where the little boy had gone.

"Did you wonder how I would look after all this time?" Estel asked suddenly, startling the prince.

"Of – of course I did, Estel, but I could not imagine… this," Legolas replied, sweeping his hands to indicate Estel's form from head to toe. "You look splendid," he added softly, meaning it.

"And you look the same as I remembered you," Estel said, and it was his turn to lower his voice when he added: "only more beautiful."

"Beautiful?" Legolas laughed, blushing slightly. "Was that how you thought of me?"

"Always," Estel answered, and the light in his eyes showed that he was sincere. "I just didn't know how to say it, but… I was always soothed by your voice and your gentle eyes and your smile. Growing up, I thought perhaps I had been seeing through the eyes of a silly child, but now that I see and hear you again as a grown-up... I can say with certainty that the child was not mistaken." He looked at the elf unflinchingly. "You were and still are the most beautiful person I know, Legolas."

"When did you begin to say my name the way others do?" the elf asked quickly, feeling a little embarrassed.

Estel knitted his eyebrows, thinking. "I cannot remember," he replied, "but there was a time when Elladan and Elrohir teased me about it, and wouldn't let up even though Arwen tried to make them stop. I think it was at that point that they taught me to say it right." The man lowered his eyes. "I'm sorry I said it wrong when you were there."

"Wrong?" asked Legolas, shaking his head. "No, Estel, it was never wrong! It was just how _you_ said it, and I loved it, for you were the only one who called me by that name. I never minded, so do not feel sorry over it."

Estel could have responded to that reassurance in a number of ways. He could have beamed with delight, or smiled in relief, or said 'good.' But he did none of those. Instead, he yawned. A young, strong hand flew up to try and hide it, but Legolas had already seen it.

The elf laughed lightly. "My apologies, Estel, you must be weary from the journey. I should let you rest now," he said. "And you may wish to have a bath first. Why don't you use the one in my chambers? Then you can take a nap before luncheon."

Estel accepted the elf's offer readily, for he did feel very tired. Leaving Estel to change out of his clothes, Legolas returned to his own chambers to get the bath prepared for Estel. The elf he had instructed to do so had just put the finishing touches to the warm bath when the young man was brought in by another elf.

Legolas turned around, and again his heart missed a beat when he saw Estel in the soft robe that had been sent to him, for it revealed more of his bronzed skin and lean, long legs he had grown into. The elf prince felt a little confused; he did not think seeing Estel grown up would affect him that way.

Then Legolas noticed something else, and a strange thrill ran through him: at the open neckline of the robe the man was wearing was the necklace of golden hair he had made for the little child Estel, still there after twelve years. It was of course much too short for him now, but Legolas' sharp eyes saw that the man had lengthened it by adding a piece of yarn to it.

The elf knew then that what Elrohir had said was true: Estel had far from forgotten him, and the elf felt a deep sense of joy and satisfaction. He knew, too, that he still felt the same fondness for Estel as he did all those years ago. But there was also a strange new sensation within him that was both unsettling but very pleasant.

Shaking off his feelings, he decided to ask Estel about the necklace later, not wishing to delay the man's rest. Leaving instructions for an elf to see to Estel's needs, he left his chambers to prepare for his meeting that afternoon.

--xx00xx--

Over the next few days, Legolas and Estel spent much time together as they went riding and swimming and hiking in the woods of Thranduil's realm. Estel's love of learning about new places and Mirkwood customs was evident, for he was full of questions, and the elves were more than pleased to see a mortal take so much interest in their home. As expected, he spent many hours on the archery fields as well, where Legolas personally helped him refine his skills.

Slowly, the elf prince grew more accustomed to seeing and interacting with Estel as a handsome young man instead of a cuddly child. He had his own personality and opinions and preferences – as well as a streak of stubbornness.

"I suppose you have not changed in those respects, Estel," he said teasingly one day when the young man insisted on trying his own stance during training. "You always did want to try doing things your way."

"Until I fail and realize my mistakes," Estel admitted laughingly. "_Adar _has told me that more than once."

"Then you should stay the way you are," Legolas told him. "But right now, I would be much obliged if you would straighten your stance like I showed you – like this."

Standing behind Estel, the prince proceeded to adjust the position of the man's shoulders and run his hand along the underside of the bow arm to straighten it. As he did so, with his face close to Estel's ear, a warm thrill ran through him, and he found himself sorely tempted to nuzzle the man's ear as he had done when the man was still a child. But where he had once done it with the pleasant intent of tickling a huggable, giggling little boy, he now felt something different. He was… could he be… aroused?

Confused at what he was feeling, and conscious of some elves standing a little distance from them, Legolas moved away and composed himself before he asked Estel to release his arrow. To the delight of both teacher and student, it flew straight and true, hitting the mark dead center.

Estel whipped around and sent the prince a huge smile, his eyes shining. He did not even cast a second glance at the Mirkwood elves nearby who were murmuring their approval. Legolas expected him to yelp with joy and pride, but what he said went straight to the elf's heart: "You bring out the best in me, Legolas."

Again, Estel's soft-spoken but genuine sentiments stirred something within the elf, and he found the blue-grey eyes mesmerizing. He decided he had to distract himself and the man quickly.

"For that wonderful shot, Estel, you deserve a reward," he said, smiling. "What would you like it to be?"

"A reward?" asked Estel, looking eager.

"Yes, what would you ask of me? If I can grant it, it is yours."

Estel said nothing at first, but studied the prince's fair face till the elf began to blush.

"I ask for nothing but to spend time alone with you," Estel said at last. "Not training, not meeting with others. Just sharing time with no one with you."

"That is easy enough to grant," said Legolas, secretly pleased. "I will take you up my tree."

"Your tree?"

"Aye, no one else goes there. They all stay away, and it is my special place," said Legolas, "but I will take you there now, if you would like that."

The shining pleasure in the blue-grey eyes conveyed Estel's answer, and the elf led him away from the archery practice fields. They walked along pleasant paths and across a little bridge spanning a stream before coming to the lake and the tree where the elf prince spent his quiet hours alone.

"You climb almost as well as an elf does, Estel," Legolas said, reaching out a hand to help the young man up onto the strong branch the elf had chosen for both of them to sit on.

"I had two good teachers," Estel replied, settling him comfortably astride the branch and leaning against the huge trunk.

Legolas sat sideways before him, secure in that position as only an elf could be, and began telling Estel about his mother and how she had loved this lake. Before long, he was revealing much of his childhood joys and fears to Estel, more than he had ever done with anyone else. The man listened spellbound to the silvery elven voice peeling off layers of the speaker's life, exposing his vulnerabilities and hopes and desires to him. As the birds chirped and colorful butterflies flew around the yellow blossoms, Estel watched the gentle shadows of leaves play across the elven features as a gentle breeze lifted both golden and dark hair on its way through the foliage, and he thought he had never had a more magical time than this. Such a dreamy look came over his face that the elf prince stopped speaking and laughed lightly at him.

"You look sleepy, Estel," the elf remarked. "Does this bore you?"

"On the contrary," Estel replied immediately. "I have loved listening to every word. I am merely content to sit back and hear you talk, and I feel very rested."

Legolas smiled and studied yet again the face of the man who had once been his little Estel. Then he suddenly reached over, and before Estel could realize what was happening, the elf had removed the necklace from his neck.

The man clamped a hand on the elven arm as it retracted. "What are you doing?" Estel demanded, the blue-grey eyes wide and upset.

"You have outgrown this," the elf said.

"Some things I don't outgrow," Estel countered, staying his hand and looking deep into Legolas' eyes. "Some things never change, and I wish to keep them that way."

Held by Estel's unwavering gaze, Legolas wondered if the man was referring merely to the necklace. "I will make you a new one," he said in a placating tone.

"No! I want to keep this one," Estel insisted, not removing his hand.

"But it is too short for you," the elf said.

"Then add to it, please," Estel pleaded. In a softer tone, he continued: "Don't throw away what has always been there. It should be built on, not discarded. I will not do that."

Again, Legolas wondered if Estel was talking only about the necklace. He felt himself growing strangely warm all over, and as he stole a glance at the firm set of Estel's jaw and the determined look in his eyes, he could not help being in awe of the young man's self-confidence.

"I will lengthen it," the elf conceded, nodding. Not knowing what else to say, and perplexed at the young mortal's ability to render him – a four-hundred-year-old elf – confused and speechless, he lowered his eyes to undo the yarn. To his surprise and further perplexity, he found his fingers shaking. _What is happening?_ the elf asked himself. He felt as if he were facing someone new and familiar at the same time, and indeed, Estel seemed a different person from the child he had known, yet every bit as engaging and every bit as dear. To steady himself, he focused his attention on the object in his hand.

"I love you, Legolas," Estel said suddenly, breaking into the elf's thoughts.

Legolas did not look up. "I know, Estel, and I love you too," he said as his trembling fingers began to weave a new necklace with fresh strands of hair. The elf could not stop his hands from shivering. A part of him wondered at the reason for this; yet in his heart and in the tingling of his veins – he knew.

He knew it but could not say it. He felt frozen in time. He was on the brink of a precipice, and he knew he was about to fall off and everything would change after that. But he could not stop himself; he was only waiting for it to happen. It came in the next moment when Estel's strong young hand reached up to lift the delicate elven chin and gaze deeply into the blue eyes. Legolas went weak, and could only gaze back helplessly.

Estel's hand was steady, but the young man's voice shook a little when he spoke. "You once loved me as one loves a child, Legolas, and I looked up to you as my hero," he began. "You are still the one I look up to most... but my love has continued to grow, and now... and now... now I love you more than the 'Le'las' I adored." Estel exhaled a sigh of relief, as if he had finally released something he had been holding in.

"Wh – what do you mean?" Legolas stammered, lowering his eyes in an attempt to resume his weaving, but Estel stilled his hands and forced him to look up again. There was now a light of confidence in the man's eyes that Legolas had not seen before.

"For the twelve years we were parted, I could not think of anyone else but you, night and day," he said with an emotion that Legolas knew came from the depths of his heart. "Do you know how I felt and what I thought when I first saw you again a week ago, Legolas?"

The elf prince could only shake his head slowly as one in a spell. "No," he swallowed, his blue eyes like liquid pools, moist and unblinking.

"You were like a dream come true: a golden vision before my disbelieving eyes," Estel said huskily, gently rubbing his thumbs in circles on the backs of the fair elven hands. "You were like every rainbow I've ever seen, rising to light up a pale sky. You were every beautiful melody that I have ever sung, embodied in a body so stunning it made me want to weep in awe. You were every bit the image of perfection I have seen in my mind's eye all these years."

The young man raised his hand to Legolas' cheek and brushed the back of his hand against it, sending delicious shivers down the elven spine. Gone was the nervousness that had been in Estel's voice only moments ago; his confession of love had given him a sense of confidence and boldness that echoed in every word.

"Now that I am with you again, the elf of my life, I feel so blessed," he continued. "Every time you laugh, it is as music to my ears; every time you smile at me, I walk on clouds. Your eyes are the lamps in my sky, and your hair… it's the sea of gold I sail on in my dreams. You are the only one I have loved without pause, without reservation, all the years of my life since first you came into it, and now – I feel that I can hardly breathe without you."

_Oh, Estel,_ Legolas thought, his heart thudding within his chest as Estel held his face. _Where did the little boy go? You won my heart first with your childish prattle... and now with words of honey. When did your tongue learn so poetic a spell? Was it from the libraries of Imladris that you learned to string together words like the lines of a song? Was it from the lore-telling of Lord Elrond - _

"You say nothing, Legolas," Estel said worriedly when Legolas continued to keep silent. "My beloved prince, please – don't shun my love."

Legolas drew a breath and released it, shaking his head. "Shun it?" he asked. "Estel, I've held you in my heart since I held you in my arms. But… this is new to me – I do not know how to respond. I only know that I find deep joy in your company, a joy beyond words, and… and when you look at me, I… I feel lost…"

"Then let me show you the way to me," Estel said softly, and before Legolas knew what was happening, the young man had drawn him close, leaning in to cover the soft elven lips with his own, caressing them in the lightest of kisses. It was only a gentle kiss, like the brush of a bird's wing, but it seemed to Legolas that he had never tasted anything sweeter. He closed his eyes, savoring the new sensation, and when he opened his eyes again, he was looking into Estel's own blue-grey pools of passion. Pressed against the strong human chest, Legolas could feel the thundering beat of Estel's heart, and he realised that the young man - despite his brave words - was once again trying hard to fight some remaining traces of nervousness and uncertainty.

The elf moved his hands slowly up the young man's front to rest on either side of his neck. "Estel," he whispered, feeling the man's warm breath against his lips. "What are you doing to me? Wha – mmmph – "

The sentence went unfinished as Estel crushed his lips against the elf's in a bold move. The young man gathered greater courage and claimed the elven lips in a more passionate kiss than before. Helplessly, Legolas melted against Estel as the man cupped the back of his head and ran his fingers through his soft hair, while the fleshy lips were molded against his own, gently sucking and tasting. Estel was awaking new senses within him, driving him to feel things he had never felt. His fingers dug into the strong shoulders helplessly.

_Estel, I never thought I could desire you this way_, the elf thought. Breathing heavily, Legolas began to kiss back, tilting his head and capturing the man's mouth, savoring the fullness of the lips and the scent of leather and manliness from his body.

Heated by Legolas' response, Estel moaned within the kiss and ran his tongue along the elven lips, probing and licking. Aroused by the sweetness he found there, he pulled the elf closer and kissed him even more deeply, till Legolas felt that he would have fallen off the branch if he had not been so tightly encircled with Estel's arms.

Suddenly, Estel broke the kiss, but only to move his attention to the tender spot at Legolas' long, pale throat. His fingers firmly entangled in the soft, golden hair, Estel moved his lips up and down the skin, breathing in the fresh, clean scent of the elf. He nipped and sucked gently, drawing whimpers from the elf, and leaving a little mark of his own on the fair skin for the elf to remember him by in the days to come. Then, with an effort, he raised his head, and looked in the dazed blue eyes.

"That's enough for now," the man said huskily. With a gentleness belied by the strong hands, he smoothed back the golden braids that had come undone through the fervor of his fingers. "I don't want to frighten you... I should not take advantage of this moment that I know is sudden for you... for us."

_Frighten me?_ Legolas wondered in surprise, still shaken from the passion he had felt. _Take advantage of me?_ As he watched Estel try to comb out the tangles he had caused, he realized that the young man was right: Estel's words hinted that he had probably pictured and anticipated this moment many times throughout the years he had been growing up, whilst Legolas had had no warning. They should not rush rashly into something that had only just been revealed to him. Legolas noted – with no small feeling of pride – what a considerate, wise man the son of Arathorn was turning into.

"I can only stay a few weeks, Legolas," Estel said, turning somber, "and when I leave you, part of my heart shall be wrenched out and left here with you. I don't know how I will get through the coming days without you, but I hope you will think about this... about us... when I am gone." He lifted Legolas' chin again. "When next we meet, I will ask how you feel. But I can assure you that I will feel then as I do today. You are the light of my life, and you have been that since I first met you."

"Estel…" was all that the elf could utter in a whisper.

The man took Legolas' hands in his once more. "I do not deserve you," he said in a small voice, "but I hope you will find it in your pure heart to accept my love for you, Legolas – not the affection of a child, but the passion and devotion of a man."

Legolas felt his eyes fill with unshed tears. The little boy was truly gone, he thought, and in his place was a man who knew what he wanted.

The elf found that he could not speak, so he merely nodded. Picking up the necklace he had been refashioning, he finished it and reached around Estel's neck to fasten it, bringing their lips close once more. Feeling the man's warm breath across his lips, the elf could not help feeling dazed again, but he focused on securing the necklace of gold.

When he had tied the ends firmly together, he let his fingers linger in Estel's dark hair, running them slowly through the waves.

"Thank you… Le'las," Estel said softly against his lips, looking at him with smiling eyes, and this time, it was Legolas who silenced his 'little' Estel with a warm kiss.

Then the elf turned himself around on the branch, and leaned back against Estel, encircled within his strong arms. And for the next few hours, Man and elf held hands and talked quietly. But for the most part, they sat in a comfortable silence in their tree till the sun set, trying to make sense of this turning point in their relationship and wondering what would happen next.

* * *

**_My thanks to all the readers who kindly reviewed - I keep editing and reposting this story because of you! _**


	11. Developments

**Chapter 11**: **Developments**

It was long past midnight, but Legolas could not sleep. He was sitting in a tree, looking up at a clear sky of stars through the leaves. But the stars were not what he really saw, for he was lost in thought, and his thoughts were on one person: the young passionate man who had been a little adoring child, now asleep in a room not far away.

Legolas could not believe how happy he had been at seeing Estel again after many years, but even happier in the last two weeks since they had discovered how their feelings had developed. He hardly thought it possible that he could feel this much attraction to someone. Beautiful female elves there had been, and he had been close to a number of male ones as well, but what he felt for Estel and with Estel was just different: so fresh and familiar at the same time. It was familiar, for, after all, he had loved the child for may years. Yet it was new, for it was both a warm affection and a physical arousal that reached a depth the sheltered elf was unused to. It was, moreover, with a male, and although it was not unheard of, it was something Legolas had never thought would move him this much.

Each day, they had found time to be alone in the tree that Legolas had come to think of as 'theirs', no longer his alone. There, they had remained hidden from prying eyes, for their closeness went unquestioned given its history, and no one disrupted their time together. During the long hours, the Man and the Elf had learned more and more of how each other felt and thought, and what each desired and dreamed of. They had sat lost in the sounds of the woods and of their heartbeats as they leaned close in each other's arms, content to kiss and hold hands, and ever respectful of not crossing a boundary they were not yet ready to trespass no matter how tempted they were to try.

And tempted they had been. One evening, they had been swimming in the lake that Legolas frequented, after an afternoon of sparring with knives and swords. Laughingly, they had emerged from the water as dusk was falling and the world was growing quiet. Legolas had been leading the way back to the frond-covered spot where they had left their clothes, and as he turned back to say something to Estel, the young man had bumped into him and caught him before he fell.

In the golden flame of the setting sun, with his fair face and long hair, Legolas had seemed to Estel like a fiery vision of grace, gliding out from some dream into his waiting arms. His stunning beauty had made the young man's heart miss a beat and his breath catch in his throat, and Estel had felt a deep pride in being loved by that remarkable being.

But suddenly, for some strange reason, Estel had been assailed by doubt. The elven being had at that moment seemed to him to be too fine, too ethereal, too far beyond his reach to ever belong to him or be part of his world… and the man had stepped back, feeling totally unworthy, and his hands had fallen weakly to his sides. His face had registered loss and sadness so sharp and so unexpected that he had looked once again no more than the little child growing up at Imladris.

Legolas had gasped and caught his arms, fearing something was wrong. "Estel? What is it? Do you feel ill?" the elf had asked in alarm, searching the young face for signs of an ailment. Finding none, he questioned Estel again. "What is it, Estel? What is wrong?"

The young man had swallowed, assaulted by a tumult of emotions. "I… you… you are too good for me, Legolas," he had whispered at last. "How can I ever hope… you… how could you ever…?" He had begun helplessly. "You are… and I'm only – "

Then his words had been cut off by soft lips as the elf prince of his dreams gave him the sweetest kiss he had received to date, and embraced him tightly.

"Neither of us knows what will happen with us in the days to come, dear one," Legolas had whispered in his ear, sending a thrill down his spine. "But never _ever_ think yourself unworthy of me or anyone else, Estel! There is so much in you, so much…"

Then the elf had gazed deeply into the blue-grey eyes, now dark with the approach with night, and claimed the man's lips again. His elven hands had moved slowly from the bare, wet shoulders down the strong young arms, to wrap themselves around Estel's waist. His fists had clenched where they met at the back as they fought an urge to free the man of his wet leggings.

Estel had moaned softly, shivering not from the chill of evening, but from the temptation to undress the elf before him. What would have happened beyond that point, he had not been able to imagine, but he had wanted so much to feel more of Legolas, to run his hands along the fair skin in places he had not yet seen...

Man and Elf had broken the kiss at that point, both a little shy, both still inexperienced, and neither wishing to do something they were not yet prepared to handle. But they had smiled together and given each other a silent reassurance that if things were meant to be, a time would come when they would take the next step. And if the time did come, there would be no more barriers between them.

And so their love had grown, not in the ways of lust, but through a trust and understanding of their deepest selves that they shared with no others.

A thrill went through the golden-haired elf tonight as he sat in the tree outside the palace. Once again he thought of the soft young lips his fingers had run lightly over each day, and the blue-grey eyes that would be so full of mirth or passion, and how they would hold him mesmerized and captive… so gentle a soul, and so powerful a man… a man…

Legolas closed his eyes as a worrying thought entered his mind. Estel was a mortal, and for the first time in his life, the elf prince seriously wondered about how far a relationship with a mortal could go, or should go. What would Adar say? How would his brothers feel?

The prince sighed. He thought about how at home he felt in Estel's arms, as if it filled some emptiness in him, as if it answered questions he did not even know he had, and as if.. as if… Estel was all he would ever need to be happy. All he would ever need…

The feeling both excited and scared him. Absently, he drew out the Green Stone that he wore on a chain around his neck, and found himself wondering what guidance it would give.

"What occupies your thoughts, Little Prince?" a fair voice broke into his reflection, and Legolas quickly hid the stone again. He groaned at the term he seemed to be stuck with. Estel was the only one who did not think of him that way.

"_Saes_, my friends," he pleaded. "Please, do not – "

"Call you that; we know, we know," Elladan said, laughing as he and his twin climbed the tree to join Legolas. "But old habits die hard."

"Some things don't change," Elrohir said, causing Legolas to smile, for that was what Estel had said two weeks ago. "And where is Estel, by the way?" the Imladris elf added as if he had read Legolas' mind.

"In deep slumber, I should think," the golden-haired elf replied. "He's tired from all the training he has been receiving."

The twins smiled and leaned back against the tree trunk. "How he has loved being here with you, Legolas," Elladan said. "This has been good for him."

"He has matured so much," Legolas said almost dreamily. "He was always determined as a child, I recall, but now he seems to know exactly what he wants, and he will not hesitate to say so."

"Does that surprise you?" Elrohir asked, looking surprised himself.

"Well, yes," Legolas said. "After all, the last time I saw him, he was still a little boy, learning about the world he was in, learning to cope with life…"

The Imladris elf nodded. "Of course," he said. "We sometimes forget that you have not followed his development as we have. What Estel has turned into has in fact been gradual – and the result of deliberate effort on Adar's part."

"What do you mean?" Legolas asked, sitting up in interest.

"Well… you know Estel's true lineage," Elladan answered for his twin. "Because of his heritage and the enormous task that will in time fall upon his shoulders, Adar has been carefully shaping him into someone who will easily fill the role of a leader, for the rumors are strong that Sauron is seeking to make himself powerful again. His threat is growing, and the need for Estel to lead the armies of Men against the Dark Lord may not be too far away. He will need time to find and unite the fragmented companies of Men."

"You did a wonderful job helping him recover from the loss of his mother, Legolas, and you left a child who was ready to learn and live again," Elrohir said. "Ever since then, Adar has been consciously giving him various kinds of tasks to instill in him even more confidence and resilience. We've been training him to survive in the wilds, to wield a sword – and now you have honed his archery skills."

"And Adar has been training him to be a firm leader who can make wise, but sometimes daring decisions, for the time may soon come that the world of Men will depend on those decisions," Elladan added. "It is no wonder that he has grown up so fast, maybe faster than other Edain of his own age, not that we would know much about them, but I would imagine it to be so."

_No wonder he seems so in control of his own mind – and his own heart_, Legolas thought with a secret thrill as he remembered the feel of Estel's arms and lips. _And how willing he is to act on his desires!_

"And now he has come to know another elven realm, thanks to you and your Adar," said Elrohir, breaking into the prince's pleasant thoughts. "It is good that his knowledge of Middle-earth is broadening."

"I, too, am glad that he has been well accepted, for our people do not readily receive strangers who are not of the Firstborn," Legolas said, smiling. "Only recently have we allowed the Men of Dale to come here at all. But then Estel is no ordinary Man; he is your brother."

"It is fortunate that Mirkwood does not reject him," Elladan said, nodding, "for he will need all the help he can get when the day comes that he has to fight against Sauron."

A sudden frown crossed Legolas' fair face, and he fell silent, leaning back weakly against the tree. He felt so immensely proud of Estel, but he also began to feel afraid for him. No longer would he be the little child that everyone doted on and kept from harm, nor would he be able to hide within the safe walls of Imladris for long. His time would come to stand forth as the heir of Numenor.

_And no longer will he look up to me to do things for him_, the elf prince thought sadly. _But I shall be at his side, and support him in any way I can._

"Your father and your people have been kind to Estel, Legolas," Elrohir said, as if he were reading the prince's mind, "even if they might not look upon him in quite the same way as they do those of our kind."

Legolas smiled ruefully. "It will take time for Mirkwood elves to trust Men fully, I am afraid," he admitted.

"But he has you, Legolas, and how that young man loves you!" Elladan declared, shaking his head and making Legolas blush as secret thoughts ran through his head. The prince quickly lowered his head to hide the feelings that he knew were written all over his face, but not quick enough for Elrohir, who looked at him curiously.

"I wonder if he will ever come to treasure a maiden the way he holds you in his heart," Elrohir said softly and slyly, watching for a reaction from the prince.

Legolas thought furiously for a suitable reply. "Come now, surely it is too soon to be thinking about such matters," he said as steadily as he could, masking his desperation and embarrassment. "But then again – with brothers like you, perhaps he learnt fast. What have you been teaching him?"

The ruse worked, for now the attention was on Elrohir, and it was the dark-haired elf's turn to be defensive. "Nothing that would shame him, I assure you. My honor – and his – are intact!" he insisted, drawing a laugh from Legolas. "Oh, he may have kissed an _elleth_ or two on a challenge, but it was only done in fun, and his heart was never in it!"

Legolas was surprised at the twinge of jealousy that rushed through him at Elrohir's words, but it disappeared as quickly as it had arisen, for he remembered that he, too, had been paired with pretty female elves at dances, and it had meant little to him. They never made him feel the way Estel did.

"Oh, stop with that talk!" Elladan groaned. "We should be thankful Estel has a hero in Legolas. He could have done worse!"

"Oh, like you?" Legolas quipped, evading a friendly punch from Elrohir.

Elladan grinned. "Seriously, I wish you could be there when Adar tells him about his heritage and his impending task, Legolas. I don't know how he will react."

"With stoicism, I hope," Legolas said, but his tone softened as his love for the child and the man flooded him. "Still, I would not blame him if he were to feel intimidated by the enormity of the implications. "When will Lord Elrond tell him?"

"When he turns twenty – and that will not be long now," said Elrohir. "Adar plans to introduce him to some of the Rangers – you know, the remnants of his kin who have been living in secret in the wilds. Only a few of them have been aware of Estel's existence these past years, and they would have died to protect that secret, for they are faithful to the line of Isildur."

"But Estel has never learnt of them," Elladan pointed out. "It will not be easy, as you say, Legolas, finding out about his lineage and his hidden kin at the same time."

"He may panic and decide to lock himself in a room, never to come out," Elrohir jested. "Or he may throw a gigantic tantrum and sulk for weeks."

"Do not jest about it," Legolas chided the elf, frowning. "It would be a difficult truth for anyone to accept."

Elrohir chuckled. "Coming to his defense already!" he remarked. "That is why we wish you could be present when he is told. He might actually wish to go running to you."

"And still you jest!" Legolas protested.

"Well, there is much truth in that," Elladan said. "If the revelation overwhelms him, my friend, we will have to send for you again."

"And I will gladly come," Legolas said. "In fact, I would return with you when you leave next week, but there is much to do here, and I'm afraid Adar shall not be agreeable to it."

"But if Estel truly needs you when he receives the news," Elrohir said, "you will come?"

Legolas fixed steady eyes on the elf. "Of course I will," he said firmly. "You need but send word. I will come."

_I will always come when you need me, Estel_, Legolas said in silence, looking in the direction of the room where the man was sleeping. _Whatever direction our relationship takes, you are in my heart, and there you will remain_.

One week later, the golden-haired elf held back tears as he and his family shared fair parting words with the visitors from Imladris. He had shared a warm kiss with Estel in their tree the day before, and the young man had held him tightly.

"May the Valar grant me strength to face the days to come without you, Legolas," Estel had whispered into the golden hair. "I don't know what will happen next, but now that I know I have a chance to love you and get your love in return, I will dream of you and dream of a day when we can be together… if you still feel the same about me then."

Legolas had raised his head then and held Estel's face lovingly, making the young man look deeply into his eyes. "I cannot tell what will happen either, Estel," he had said honestly. "But my love for you – whatever form it finally takes – shall never fail. If you ever need me, come to me, or send for me and I will come to you. Remember that." Then he had sealed his vow with a heartfelt kiss that had stolen the breath of the dark-haired human.

Now, as Estel gazed lovingly at Legolas from atop his horse, he raised one hand in farewell; his other remained subtly but firmly on the necklace of golden hair around his neck.

Then he was gone.

And so began the hardest Fall and Winter Legolas had ever known. The temperatures were milder than they had been in years, and the Sun shone happily on many days despite the snow. But a cold frost often covered the heart of the young prince as he missed the warmth of the young man who had captured his heart. He laughed and ate and danced and trained and carried out his duties as he always did, but there was often a faraway look in his beautiful eyes, as if his mind and heart were elsewhere – as indeed they were.

Alkarmenel and his father he could fool, but Thoronthalion sensed some turmoil in his brother. Suspicions he harbored at the observation, yet it was wanderlust he attributed it to. So he lovingly kept Legolas company as much as he could, and promised that the Spring would open up new chances for going abroad from Mirkwood.

It was by pure coincidence – or some Greater Hand – that the Spring did indeed bring such an opportunity. The Mirkwood royals once again received visitors from Imladris, and upon being summoned to the throne room of the King – Legolas learned that they had brought news of Estel.

"He has been told of his heritage," Thranduil said to his sons when the family had gathered. "And he is understandably upset that this was kept from him till now."

"It was not Lord Elrond's desire to keep him in ignorance," one of the Imladris elves, Githil, said quickly in defense of his lord. "But he thought it best to withhold the information till Estel – Lord Aragorn – was old enough to grasp the significance of it."

"He must be frightened… and confused," Legolas said quietly, immediately anxious about the young man for whom he cared so deeply. In his heart there already arose a desire to ride to Imladris to be with him.

"I believe he is, Ernil," Githil confirmed. "He fears entering the world of Men with whom he has had almost no contact since he was a babe. He is more one of us than he is of them, despite his bloodline."

"Well, he does have elvish blood in him," Alkarmenel remarked. "But that is not the point of this discussion, is it? Lord Elrond must have sent some kind of request along with the news – or he would not have made you come all this way."

"Quite right, Menel," said Thranduil, leaning back on his throne. "Elrond has decided to arrange something to take the young man's mind off the magnitude of his destiny for a while. He – er – he wishes to have a celebration in Imladris."

The three elf princes waited for their father to tell them more, but the King paused and smiled as if not quite knowing what to say. Legolas sat forward in his seat, impatient to learn more, for he sensed an opportunity to visit Imladris again.

"What celebration, Adar?" he asked.

"Well…" the King said, clearing his throat and looking at his sons. "It is more of an invitation to negotiate a – a proposal."

"But if all goes well, that should be followed by a celebration," Githil added quickly, his face already brightening at the thought.

Alkarmenel shook his head, puzzled. "If I may so ask: will you not speak in riddles, please?" he said, turning from his father to Githil and back. "Do speak plainly so we can all understand."

Thranduil took a deep breath and opened his mouth, but he seemed overwhelmed with emotion, and could not utter a word. Seeing the King's state, Githil smiled sagely and spoke instead.

"Forgive my boldness, my lord, but seeing that it is difficult for you, allow me to make known the happy likelihood," he said, looking at the King, who simply nodded helplessly. "My lords, this celebration – if an agreement should be reached – will be to announce the betrothal of our beloved Lady Arwen to the eldest prince of Mirkwood, Prince Thoronthalion."

At first, there was only stunned silence from the three Mirkwood princes at the news, but only for an instant before Alkarmenel and Legolas jumped up and went to embrace their brother, their faces beaming with joy even as Thalion's went red with embarrassment and deep pleasure. Smiling happily, the Imladris visitors tactfully took their leave of the family, allowing the King and his sons to revel in this moment in privacy.

"My firstborn – to be wedded," Thranduil said tearfully as he held Thalion close. "My son, my son. It is what you desire, is it not, _ion nin_? Arwen _is_ whom you wish to wed?"

Bashfully, Thalion answered in his father's ear. "Yes, Adar, she is whom I wish to make my wife," he said, "if you approve."

"Oh, of course he approves!" Alkarmenel said for his father, clapping his hand on Thalion's back. "Just hurry up and be wedded so that we can some nephews and nieces running around!"

Thalion blushed a deeper red, and turned to engage his brother in a mock fight with their arms and legs as they had done since they were elflings, while Legolas and Thranduil burst out in laughter and watched them.

"This is good news indeed," the King said to his youngest son, "and timely, for it should do much to draw Estel away from the anxious contemplation of his destiny."

"I hope it will, Adar," Legolas said quietly.

"I know you must worry about him," his father said, studying the fair young face.

Legolas hesitated before answering. "I do," he said carefully. "He has gone through much in his life."

"But you are young, too, among our people, _ion nin_," the King reminded his son. "And you must take care not to be hurt by anything that might befall Estel – or Aragorn as he will be known from now on. You have your own life to look to."

_But what if it should continue to be closely tied to his?_ Legolas wondered silently. _Could there ever be a bond between us as there is between Thalion and Arwen? _Slowly and without deliberate thought, his hand moved to his chest where the green stone rested beneath his shirt.

Noticing the sudden reflective contemplation on his son's face, the King put an arm around the young shoulders. "Come now, are you already feeling disheartened?"

"No, Adar, no," the prince answered quickly. "I am happy for Thalion, but I was just thinking about… about… " Desperately, he fished around in his mind for something reasonable to say.

"About your _naneth_?" the King asked softly, his own eyes misting. "You hardly knew her, _ion nin_, but oh, how I wish she were here to witness this joy." And he bowed his head to hide his sudden sorrow.

Distressed to see his father unhappy, Legolas threw his arms around the strong figure. The only bond Legolas had with his mother was through the touch of the green stone, but he knew how much she had meant to his father and brothers. "Adar, do not grieve, we are here with you," he said soothingly. "Please, let us be happy for Thalion."

Holding his son tightly, Thranduil nodded and swallowed his tears. Then he collected himself and his sons, and smiled again.

"Come, we have much to do," he said. "We will leave for Imladris the day after tomorrow. Lord Elrond and Arwen await us!"

_And Estel_, _he waits for me_, thought Legolas, growing warm just at the vision of the young man in his mind. _He waits for me_.

* * *

_Thanks to all who reviewed!_


	12. Discoveries

**Chapter 12****: Discoveries**

Two days after the Imladris elves brought Lord Elrond's news to Mirkwood, the royal family set off on their journey to the fair haven beyond the Misty Mountains, where a celebration – as well as the heir to the kingdom of Gondor – awaited them.

It was going to be a betrothal, not yet the wedding itself, so Thranduil was able to gather very quickly some appropriate gifts for Elrond and his future daughter-in-law, so that the journey would not be delayed. The royal family was accompanied by two of the King's councilors, and thirty of their finest guards.

The ride to Imladris was one of mixed emotions for Mirkwood elves. King Thranduil was both proud and thrilled that his firstborn would soon be betrothed to the most beautiful elleth in Middle-earth, the famed Evenstar and the daughter of Elrond, no less. His councilors and Elrond's emissaries were discussing the strong elven alliance the wedding would result in. Alkarmenel and the escort that accompanied them were nothing short of ecstatic, and their songs and jests showed it.

But for Thalion and Legolas, there was only quiet joy in each of their hearts as they each thought about the ones they loved. They rode side by side, half-listening to the conversations of those around them, but their minds already in fair Imladris.

"What are you thinking about?" Legolas asked, breaking into his brother's thoughts with a laugh. "As if I did not already know!"

Thalion gave him a small smile. "About you, actually," the eldest prince replied, surprising the younger one.

Legolas raised his fine eyebrows. "About me?" he asked in genuine astonishment. "But how could I have wrenched your mind from fair Arwen?"

His brother laughed lightly. "Well, if you must know, I was thinking about both of you," he said, and lapsed into silence.

"Thalion?" Legolas prompted after a while. "What do you mean?"

The elder prince continued to remain silent for a few moments, and when he did speak, he did not meet his brother's eyes. "Arwen has been very fond of you, Legolas," he said quietly so that those around them would not hear. "I just wonder if it's certain that she doesn't prefer to wed you instead, and whether… whether you might wish –"

"How could you even think that, Thalion!" Legolas exclaimed, his blue eyes wide and distressed. He lowered his voice further and guided his horse closer to his brother's, glad that the laughter of the elves around them covered their dialog. "Arwen is fond of me, and I of her, of course, but I love her no more than a sister we never had, and any fool can see that you are the one she adores and would wish to wed! Cast aside your doubts, Thalion, and embrace her choice with surety. As for me, can you not tell how happy I am for you?"

Thalion raised his head then and looked at Legolas, eyes shining with affection. "I love you, _tithen pen_, probably more than I could love anyone else," he said sincerely. "And if I thought for the slightest moment that you held her in your heart, I would step aside."

Legolas' eyes brimmed with tears at his brother's words, and through his mind raced the memories of the many years Thalion had protected him, guided him, taught him, comforted him, and done everything he could to keep him happy. And he knew that he, in turn, would give anything to return his brother's love.

"Even if I did desire the Evenstar in that way, Thalion, I would not take her from you," he stated simply. "But fortunately, she has no such claim on my heart. Her claim is on yours and yours alone." The smile that appeared on the face of the elder prince delighted Legolas, and made him continue in a small voice: "Someone else has staked a claim on mine."

It was Thalion's turn to be startled. "Oh?" he asked. "Who? And when? You have not spoken of this before."

A blush came over the young prince's cheeks as he lowered his head. "I cannot speak of it yet, Thalion, for it is still… um… new," he said in almost a whisper. "But when the time comes that I can be certain, I hope you will accept my choice."

"If your choice is whom you desire, Legolas, and the union brings you joy, I will," the older prince promised. "As would _Adar_. But now you make me curious. Who has claimed the heart of my little brother?"

"Not –"

"– so little anymore, I know, I know!" Thalion added, laughing. "Well, tell me when you feel you can, Legolas, and if it is a wise choice, you will have my support."

_A wise choice_, Legolas thought. _How wise a choice would it be to have no one in my heart but Estel? What if I never love an elleth the way I love Estel?_

The young elf lapsed into a reflective silence as his thoughts wandered to the item that was supposed to be his guide to the person with whom he should bond: the Green Stone.

Then his breath caught.

The Green Stone.

Estel.

_How_, he wondered, _how does the Stone point to Estel?_ _How would I know if it did?_

He felt a chill as another thought struck him.

_What if it never does? _

Legolas' breath caught again as he realized that he could not yet see a connection between the green stone his mother had left him and the man he had grown to love.

Then he was shaken from his uneasy thoughts by a laugh from Thalion as the eldest prince responded to something amusing Alkarmenel had said.

_Think not of yourself for now_, Legolas chided himself. _This is Thalion's moment of joy; this is his celebration. _And the elf determined to cheer himself up for the sake of his brother.

It turned out to be easy to overcome his depressing fears, for the vale of Imladris drew near before long, and as it had before, the very air of the valley lifted the young elf's spirits. Now it seemed to vibrate with joy as if it were charged with the sentiments of its fair inhabitants. And as the Mirkwood party rode through the great gates, an air of festivity – as well as the bright smiles of many elves – received them. Arwen was not at the gates, but Lord Elrond and his sons were, and the twin elves quickly assured a blushing Thalion that he would soon see their sister.

As the visitors busied themselves with greeting the rest of their hosts, Legolas immediately looked around for Estel, and was disappointed not to see him there.

"Of late, he has been brooding over the news of his heritage," Elrohir said a little sadly when Legolas enquired about the young man. "He is uncertain about what to do next, and we understand his confusion."

"It's good to have you here, Legolas," Elladan added. "You will bring him the cheer he needs, just as you have been doing since he was a child. Ai! What a hold you have over him!"

Legolas smiled secretly, for they did not know just how much of a hold it was. And just as he had begun to wonder why Estel was not here to greet him, the young man came striding quickly towards them, carrying a bow and a quiver of arrows. His dark hair was ruffled by the breeze and his long, lean legs moved with confidence. There was no smile on Estel's handsome face, but his eyes sparkled fiercely with deep emotion at seeing the elf he loved again. He walked up to Legolas, and they embraced one another before a word could be exchanged, needing no speech to convey how much each had missed the other.

As his arms wrapped around Estel, Legolas sensed a burden upon the young man's mind and a tension in his body. He held Estel comfortingly for a few moments before he spoke. "How are you, my dear Estel?" he whispered into the man's ear, causing the latter to shiver.

"Better, now that you are here," Estel replied, drawing back and looking deeply into the blue eyes that held him mesmerized. There seemed to be much trouble lining his face, but his lips carved a smile for the golden elf he adored. "I've missed you greatly."

Legolas smiled in return. "And I you," he said. "I look forward to spending time with you, Estel."

"And you shall," said Elrohir, walking over to them. "But first, remember your manners, Estel, and come greet our other guests from Mirkwood!"

Managing a small laugh he did not really mean, Estel tore himself away from Legolas and walked over to where his foster father was, to speak graciously with Thranduil and the other elves from the Forest Realm. Legolas watched him, admiring his straight bearing and calm demeanor, and the ease with which he held a conversation. But the elf knew that Estel was, in truth, burning with desire for the two of them to be alone. Thus, he was not surprised when the man stayed just long enough to be polite before he announced that he wanted to show Legolas what he had been practicing in archery.

"What? Now?" Elladan asked in surprise. "But the fields are deserted, Estel; you know that everyone is busy with preparations for the feast tonight!"

_And empty is exactly how he wants the fields to be, _thought Legolas with amusement as he caught Estel's eye. _As do I_.

"Leave them be," Elrond said before Estel could answer, oblivious to the man's real plans. He thought only about how much Estel had waited to see the elf he worshipped, and welcomed the thought that Legolas could take his foster son's mind off his uncertain future. "Just remember to bring our guest home in time for the feast, Estel," the elf lord said kindly.

Estel threw the elf lord a grateful smile – something of a rarity in recent weeks – and Elrond received it gladly, happy to see any kind of joy on the young man's face.

The two friends left, promising to be back in time for the celebrations, and headed in the direction of the archery fields some distance away. Legolas longed to speak to Estel about his bloodline, but bearing in mind what he had been told about the man's reaction to the news, the elf avoided broaching the subject, not wishing to upset the one he loved so soon after their reunion. So on they walked, engaging in the exchange of news about each of their homes, aware that the keen-eared elves behind them could still hear what they said.

But after a while, when they were out of sight of the gates of Imladris and out of the hearing of the company gathered there, Legolas stopped Estel in his tracks and held the man's blue-grey eyes in a gentle gaze. "We're not really going for shooting practice, are we?" he asked softly.

Estel smiled, and the elf could almost see the man step out from behind a barrier he had erected around himself. He raised a strong, young hand to the elven face and caressed it tenderly. "No," he said quietly, and took Legolas' hand, abruptly pulling him off the track into the surrounding woods.

Not entirely surprised at the move, and with his face tingling from the touch of the man, Legolas allowed Estel to lead him on a little used path through the beautiful foliage. It grew shady and cool where they walked, and the trees seemed to sigh and whisper in the breeze, aware of the presence of a wood elf in their midst.

Man and elf said very little along the way, each reining in the passion that had begun to kindle through the mere touch of each other as they held hands. Estel stole glances at the beautiful golden vision at his side, and Legolas felt thrilled by the presence of the lean, dark-haired being he loved. They were burning with a desire that both excited and frightened them, and each found himself eager to arrive at a moment when their feelings would be naked, yet nervous at the thought of actually facing it.

The sound of an approaching waterfall added to their anticipation, the increasing volume of its splash so alike their emotions that were growing in intensity. Then, when they reached a well-secluded area next to the falls, and Legolas felt he would burst from the passion he felt, Estel suddenly threw down his bow and arrows. wrapped his arm around the elf's waist and pushed him up against a tree. The man's blue-grey eyes bore into the elven ones, and his warm breath fanned the fair face for only a moment before his lips captured Legolas' in a long-awaited kiss.

"Estel…" Legolas managed to utter before he opened his mouth to received Estel's eager tongue. Hearts racing, man and elf poured their feelings into the kiss, their words of love drowned by the sound of the water and by the soft moans that left their throats. They threaded their fingers in each other's hair, pulling themselves closer and deeper into the kiss so that their lips felt as one.

When they finally and reluctantly pulled apart, their eyes were glazed with passion.

"I've missed you so much, my love," the man said hoarsely.

"No more than I have missed you, Estel," the elf replied, cupping the man's face between his long hands. He hesitated a moment before he added: "Or… should I call you Aragorn now?"

Estel narrowed his eyes at the elf. "You… you knew about this?" he asked.

"Aye, I did," the elf answered quietly. "But it was not my place to mention it to you earlier. It was up to Lord Elrond to decide when to reveal it to you."

"Well, do not remind me of this burden placed upon me, for I am not ready to do what they expect me to do!" said Estel with surprising fervor. He clenched his hands and lowered his head.

Legolas' immediate reaction was regret that he had brought the subject up. He felt that Estel – Aragorn – would have to embrace his destiny at some point, but perhaps this was not the time. He ran his hands slowly down the length of the man's lean arms, feeling the hard muscles through the thin fabric, till he could grasp the man's hands in his own.

"Estel," the elf said gently. "Forgive me –"

"No, do not be sorry," Estel said, raising his head to meet Legolas' worried eyes before closing his own. "It's just that… I wish my mother were around to guide me, but… she's gone, she's gone forever, and I feel so lost."

Legolas gasped at Estel's words and drew him into a tight embrace. "Oh, Estel, you have your family," he said reassuringly, "and you have me!"

Estel held the elf close, sighing into the golden hair. "I know, beloved, I know," he said, and in his voice there was a hint of tears. "I know I am Aragorn son of Arathorn, descendant of Isildur and of Numenorean kings, and heir to the throne of Gondor! I know I have a destiny to fulfill. I… I just need time to become used to it all."

"Of course you do, dear one, and everyone understands that," Legolas said soothingly. "No one expects you to be king tomorrow. They just want you to be prepared, and to help prepare you."

The man sighed again, not releasing his hold on the elf. "But what if I fail?" he said. "What kind of king would I be?"

Legolas drew the man back and looked at him firmly. "You will not fail!" he said with confidence. "We have watched you grow into a fine young man who will one day become a fine king, whenever that happens. You are strong and persistent, you have passion and patience, and you are kind but firm – you have all the makings of a good ruler!"

The man's face seemed to grow a shade less distressed, but it was still clouded with doubt.

"If you believe no one else, then believe me," Legolas pressed on. "You will make a great king, Estel, or… as I asked before: should I call you Aragorn?"

The man did not flinch at the question. "Aragorn, I suppose," he said resignedly. Then he held Legolas' face between his hands and ran his thumbs lightly down the elf's jaw lines, making him shiver with delight. "But you can call me whatever you wish, Legolas, as long as you call me _meleth_ one day," he said tenderly, "for I will wait patiently till you consider me your loved one – the only one you love in that way."

Legolas was about to say something in response, but he hesitated.

_The green stone is to be my guide to finding my soul mate, _he thought, searching the man's eyes. _I do not know what it has to do with you, Aragorn, but it is time that I told you about it._

But as soon as the elf opened his mouth, Aragorn claimed it with fervent lips and began to taste it with his tongue, setting Legolas a-flounder on a sea of passion. So fierce was Aragorn's assault on his lips that he could hardly think, and anything he wanted to say was lost in a jumble of words in his mind.

_I will tell you after the celebrations tonight_, was the last coherent thought he had on the matter for the next few hours.

Without being aware of what they were doing, two pairs of eager hands had roamed from heads and faces down to chests and waists. Biting down gently on Legolas' lower lip, Aragorn moved his hand further down to close possessively over the soft flesh between the elf's thighs.

"Aaaah, Esteeeel," Legolas moaned huskily and bit on the man's lips in return, sucking on them and making him squirm with desire. Filled with fierce want himself, the elf reached for the lacings on Aragorn's shirt, undoing them deftly and stripping the man of it before the latter could even realize what was happening. Grasping Aragorn's back with one hand, Legolas ran his other hand across the man's chest and down to the flat hard plain of his stomach before reaching deep into his leggings to caress the arousal it found there.

With these first touches of each other's private flesh, the fences came down quickly, and before they knew what was happening, Man and Elf found themselves on the rich, green grass. Who had pulled whom down on to the soft turf, neither could remember, nor did it matter, for the feel of their bodies together was intoxicating, and it rendered them senseless to all else.

"Estel…Aragorn…" Legolas breathed into the sweet mouth beneath his, before he let his lips and tongue travel all over the young man's bare neck and chest, nipping and suckling gently. He had never done this to anyone before, but it all came so naturally to him when he was with Aragorn. Then he suddenly found himself flipped over and pinned down by the young man. He looked into the dark, smoldering eyes above him and saw the hunger in them before his breath was stolen through another heated kiss and a probing tongue.

Moaning with pleasure, Estel felt Legolas squirm beneath him, feeling his arousal rubbing painfully against the elf's. Soon, he was the one stripping Legolas of his shirt. Then, before he could lose his nerve, he peeled off the elf's leggings, running his hands slowly and tantalizingly along the fine skin of Legolas' inner thighs while gently freeing the long, hard evidence of passion lying in between. In his shyness, he stole curious looks at that precious part of the elven body, not yet daring to fix his eyes upon it, much though he yearned to.

Pinning the elf beneath him, Aragorn gazed deeply into his eyes and smiled. "You know, Legolas, you have not made good on your promise to me that you would let you me tie my longest bandage around you when we next met," he said teasingly. "We did not do that in Mirkwood, but I intend to claim that promise now – with one difference."

The elf smiled back, curious. "What might that be, Aragorn?"

"Just this," the man replied. "The only thing I wish to wrap around you, Legolas, are my arms and my body – and my hands around your… um… your…" Aragorn's boldness suddenly left him as he struggled to say what he meant.

Laughing lightly at the man's sheepish look, Legolas pulled the dark head down and kissed Aragorn soundly, drinking in the scintillating taste of his mouth. Then he broke the kiss and looked at the man with shining eyes that said "yes."

Breathing out a sigh of delight, Aragorn lowered his dark head onto Legolas' chest, running his tongue over the fair body. Slowly, he reached for the long, slender column of the elf's arousal, and having closed his fingers around it, finally fixed his eyes upon it, his heart racing wildly at the inviting sight.

Legolas moaned and struggled to keep his breathing even as Aragorn's hand moved up and down his column, shyly at first, then more rapidly as the elf's quickened breaths encouraged him. The elf dug his fingers into Aragorn's hair and threw his head back as his passion grew and rose to a height he was unused to, and he began to lose all awareness of everything else, feeling only the pleasure Aragorn was building for him. Stronger and faster and higher it was driven, on and on in wonderful strokes, till all the sounds of the woods and the water and wind became one chorus and culminated in a tearful cry of the man's name and a burst of warm pleasure that flowed over Aragorn's hand in a slow, pearly stream.

The elf felt like a boneless mass of flesh afterward, as he lay quietly while his breathing evened again. When he could finally feel again, he found Aragorn at his side, watching him with a satisfied smile, with one sticky hand placed lightly on his stomach.

"Estel," the elf breathed, reaching up to caress the man's face. "I have never, ever felt such pleasure. You are wonderful."

"You gave me so much when I was a child, Legolas," Aragorn said, kissing the palm of his lover's hand. "I truly wanted to make you feel the same joy."

"This was more, so much more," Legolas said sincerely, his eyes sparkling. Disarming the man with a radiant smile, he swiftly raised himself and pinned Aragorn beneath him.

"Dearest Estel," he whispered, brushing his lips lightly across the man's. "What you gave, you shall get in return."

So saying, the elf nipped lightly at Aragorn's exposed neck, working his way down to the young man's nipples and suckling on them while his hand stroked the arousal below, till the man squirmed desperately.

"Legolas!" Aragorn gasped in a choked voice. "Oh, Valar, please – please, Legolas… I need you…" The man reached for Legolas and pulled him up to claim his lips.

But the elf had other ideas. He placed his fingers on Aragorn's mouth, resisting the man's pull and smiling at his frustration. "My lips are needed elsewhere," he whispered teasingly. "Something my brothers told me about, but I have never tried till now."

Leaving the young man to wonder what he meant, the elf moved his lips slowly down the lean, bronzed chest and stomach, blowing his breath lightly across the fine hair he found along the way. It was now Aragorn's turn to moan and draw pained breaths as he struggled with his desire, and his strong fingers grasped at tufts of grass. Then, his body arched off the ground when he felt a surprising but utterly pleasant, wet warmth close around his hard arousal, and he felt what Legolas' lips were doing instead of kissing him on the mouth.

"Aaaa…" he groaned in ecstasy as the elf made him harder and harder with his lips and tongue, applying pressure that did not hurt, and creating friction that brought only pleasure. Now it was the man who floated above the earth when he looked down and saw golden hair lying in waves across his lower part, screening what was happening behind it. Then he became lost in a cloud of utter bliss that swirled around him, faster and hazier like the mists of the nearby waterfall, and all the colors became one as Legolas took him deeper into the hot cavern of his mouth. On and on he was drawn by the elf, and he panted and gasped, till, with one strong final assault of lips and tongue on his hardness, he sobbed the elf's name in his tearful scream and shot his essence into the ready receptacle of Legolas' mouth and throat, as he tore out whole tufts of grass at the peak of his ecstasy. Again and again and again he emptied his ardor, letting the waves of pleasure ride through him, till he was dry and soft once more, and still the elf did not let him go, not until his heart had stopped racing and he had floated slowly back to solid ground and awareness.

Only then did the elf raise his head and look at his Estel with eyes full of love and joy, and the two lovers came together in a close embrace, holding on to each other and saying nothing. They listened to their breathing and to the sounds of the waterfall, trying to come to terms with the knowledge that they had now crossed yet another line in their relationship. And they each decided that the step they had taken felt good – very, very good.

But after a while, Aragorn grew too quiet, and Legolas began to sense that the man had descended once more into some well of sorrow. "Aragorn? What is the matter?" the elf asked.

For a while, the man kept silent, but upon the elf's coaxing, he revealed his thoughts.

"Could you ever be mine Legolas?" he asked in a small voice that tugged at the elf's heartstrings. "I know you love me, but could I have you at my side for the rest of my life?"

"Aragorn – "

"I lost my mother," the man continued before the elf could stop him. "And with everything that has been revealed to me, I feel like I have lost my childhood, as well as the security of this elven home I always thought would be mine."

"What do you mean?" Legolas asked, knitting his brows.

"You may not know this, but I have been told that… that I have to wander the forests, to find and gather my kin – a group of Rangers who live elusive lives," Aragorn explained, his tone clearly one of distress. "I am loath to leave, Legolas, for I am frightened!"

"Oh, Estel!" Legolas said, at a loss as to how to remove the man's fear.

"But if I had you, Legolas, I know I could face anything!" Aragorn went on, looking at the elf with sorrowed eyes. "Yet… you are also part of the elven world that I shall lose… and I cannot help but wonder: will you be taken from me too? Will something steal you from me?"

The man's despondency tore at Legolas' heart, and for a moment, he was tempted to tell him about his own struggle with the green stone. He was sure his dear, departed mother could not be wrong, but he could not yet see identify the Stone's link to Aragorn. He truly wished to explain this to the man, but Aragorn looked so sad that the elf refrained from it for the moment. He chose his words carefully before he spoke.

"I do not know if anything will come between us, my dear Aragorn," he said at last, placing his forehead against the man's. "But I will never _choose_ to leave you! And if anything ever does hinder us, let us overcome it together."

Aragorn did not answer, and although he gave a weak nod, he did not seem confident. Silently, Legolas hoped that the festivities that night would bring the man some cheer.

"Come, Aragorn," he said consolingly. "I am here, so let us make use of our time together, and spend it in joy. Let us not ponder on problems until and unless they come to meet us!"

Thus saying, the elf held the man close again, and they lay together till the sun began to slide down the western sky. Then they washed themselves and dressed, and, holding hands for as long as they could, they returned to the house of Elrond, thinking only of their time of shared passion.

--xx00xx--

The celebratory feast that next night certainly seemed capable of restoring not only Aragorn's spirits, but also the spirits of anyone who might have been feeling melancholic, for the gardens of Imladris were well lit, and the elves gathered there beamed with joy as they awaited the announcement of the happy news.

No less thrilled were the members of Mirkwood's royal family. Dressed in splendid colors of the forest, Thranduil and his sons once again drew the admiration of the Imladris elves, Legolas most of all. But the youngest prince had eyes only for Thalion and his beloved Aragorn.

"Do not fret, Thalion, she will be here soon!" he said teasingly to his nervous brother as they waited for the Lady Arwen to appear. Lord Elrond had come to the feast earlier, but had returned to the house to accompany his daughter out. Thalion had met her only briefly that afternoon, for the recent developments had left them both feeling a little shy, and they decided it was best that they meet again only after their fathers had made the official announcement.

"Hush, _tithen pen_!" Thalion said to Legolas in mock annoyance. "Do not meddle in the affairs of grown-ups!"

Even Aragorn laughed at the brothers' banter. "She will soon be pronounced yours, Thalion," the man said. "Be patient." Then he cast a sidelong glance at Legolas, as if to tell him that he realized he should be saying those words to himself as well. Legolas returned the smile, acknowledging the underlying meaning of their exchange.

"And she will turn many eyes tonight," Elrohir chimed in, clapping Thalion on the back. "I know she spent ages planning her attire for this feast, so consider yourself fortunate, for she will break many hearts because of you!"

Amidst the ensuing laughter, an elf called out: "Here come Lord Elrond and Lady Arwen!" and everyone ceased their conversations, turning instead to the spot where they knew the elf lord and his daughter would appear.

Cheers and applause broke out when the two tall figures walked gracefully onto the grounds. Partially hidden in the dark shadows beneath the trees at first, they made an impressive entrance when they stepped suddenly into the radiance of the beams cast by the many silver lamps on the trees.

Arwen was, as Elrohir had predicted, indeed striking. She glided in on the arm of her father, her long dark hair sparkling as brightly as her eyes. And when the light fell onto the stunning dress she was attired in – a beautiful gown in the lightest shade of blue-green that fell off her creamy shoulders – many eyes widened, and every mouth fell open in breathless appreciation.

Yet, while most of the gasps were ones of mute admiration, the gasps that were released through the lips of the royal family of Mirkwood were ones of astonished disbelief.

Thranduil and Alkarmenel were rooted to the spot where they stood, while Thoronthalion and Legolas paled visibly as they stared at Arwen, for – resting elegantly on her breast, and hanging on a gold chain – was a green stone.

The family did not have to look closely to see that it was remarkable because of its unusual shape. But more than that, they realized to their instant shock, that it was the other half of the stone which was now sitting in a pouch, pressed against Legolas' chest.

* * *

_**Note**: Big bunches of hugs to reviewers._


	13. Lost

**Chapter 13: Lost**

The tension in the library of Lord Elrond – emanating from the royal family of Mirkwood and the elves of Imladris - was thick enough to cut with a knife.

After the initial shock of seeing the green stone at Arwen's neck when she had appeared for the celebrations, Thranduil had quickly drawn aside a baffled Elrond and told him to delay the announcement. Then both families had gone to Elrond's library, and here they stood or sat now: some in distress, some in confusion and anger. Shocked voices, dark moods, somber faces and stiff postures were all that could be witnessed around the room, in stark contrast with the festivities outside that they had just come in from.

Arwen was sitting silently in her father's armchair, her hands folded demurely in her lap to hide their trembling. An irate Elrohir was yelling at Thoronthalion, who stood with ashen face beside his father.

"Did I hear right?" the dark-haired elf asked in disbelief. "Did I hear you say you cannot wed Arwen?"

The prince's face paled as he looked at the puzzled blue eyes of the lady he loved. "Aye, that is what I said," the prince replied calmly, and only his father and brothers knew the true turmoil that must have been raging inside him, for they were equally disturbed. "I cannot wed her." The prince lowered his head, and with a painful effort, he added: "She should be betrothed to Legolas instead."

The cries of shock that erupted in response were even louder now, and the exchanges became rapid.

"What in the name of Arda is going on here?" Lord Elrond demanded. He had remained calm since the start of this strange turn of events, but his eyes were blazing fiercely now.

"Yes, what sort of game is this?" Elladan joined in angrily.

"It is no game, Elladan," Alkarmenel replied in the same even tone as his brother.

"It seems like one!" Elrohir said sharply. "First Thalion agrees to the proposed betrothal, now he withdraws from it!"

"For a reason –" Thalion tried to explain, but Elladan interrupted him.

"Does Mirkwood mean to insult my sister, and all of Imladris?" he challenged.

"Certainly not!" Alkarmenel protested indignantly.

"You decline the agreed betrothal and suggest Legolas as a replacement!" Elladan pointed out. "It certainly looks like you are toying with Arwen's heart!"

"That is because you do not know the purpose behind Thalion's sacrifice!" Alkarmenel argued.

"Sacrifice?" Elrohir echoed, looking as if he was ready to attack Menel. "You are now spewing rubbish! What sacrifice are you talking about?"

"_Saes, _stop this!" Legolas pleaded, stepping forward to stand between the Imladris twins and his brother. He held up his hands in a gesture of peace to appease the angry elves. "Elrohir, Elladan… I know how deeply this must anger you, but please bear with us," he said, every inch the calm diplomat his mother had been. "There is something that needs to be explained here, so that you will understand why Thalion has said the things he did. But first allow me a little time to speak with my brother."

The Imladris elves seemed only a little placated at those words, and Legolas knew that they were merely holding in their rage. Accepting the temporary relief, he walked up to his eldest brother and faced him squarely, his own expression as full of distress as Thalion's. But his eyes held also love and sorrow, for he knew what it was costing the oldest prince to decline the marriage and the union with Arwen.

"Thalion, you cannot do this," Legolas said firmly. "It would be an injustice. Please – go ahead with the marriage!"

"You know the reason behind this decision, little one," Thalion said sadly, his eyes softening and growing moist at the sight of his brother. "I dare not ignore our _naneth_'s wishes. Do not ask me to!"

Hearing the exchange, the Imladris elves grew even more confused, but the Mirkwood royals could not turn their attention to them yet, so disturbed were they over what they had to resolve first. Thranduil and Alkarmenel had moved to each side of where Thalion and Legolas were facing each other, forming a little knot that the Imladris elves could not penetrate, for there was clearly some family matter being discussed in earnest.

"This cannot be right, Thalion!" Legolas argued. "You and Arwen love each other."

Thalion looked sick, but he moved towards his brother and embraced him. "I love you even more, Legolas," he whispered, "and I would do anything – _anything_ – for your happiness."

Tears flowed from Legolas' own eyes now. "But the happiness of two other people cannot be the price!" he said, squirming out of his brother's arms. "What about Arwen? How would she –"

"She is already fond of you; it will not be hard for her to love you," Thalion argued back. "She will give you her heart in time."

_But I already have someone else's heart_, Legolas said to himself, stealing a quick look at a confused and dumbfounded Aragorn standing a little away from everyone. The storm in the blue-grey eyes stirred even greater turmoil within the heart of the elf prince.

"Adar, please!" Legolas said, turning to his father. "Tell Thalion to wed Arwen as planned!" _I cannot speak of it yet, but I too need to sort out what I have with Aragorn_, he thought.

The elven king was in agony himself, torn between what his wife had so clearly stated to be Legolas' guide to his future happiness and the love that had already grown between his eldest son and Arwen. He shook his head, not quite knowing what to say yet. Alkarmenel, too, was at a loss for words, and could offer no resolution.

It was Thalion who made the next move. Pursing his lips and fighting his own pain, he put his arm around his youngest brother and steered him towards Arwen, who – along with her father and brothers – could only stare at the princes with wide, uncomprehending eyes.

"Fair Lady Arwen," Thalion said with an obvious effort to control the tremor in his voice. "You know I love you, my lady; please – rest assured I did not mislead you in that regard."

"Thalion, no!" Legolas said, trying to break free of his brother's hold, while everyone else waited to see what Thoronthalion was going to say.

"But I feel that you will find even greater happiness with this brother of mine whom I also love," the eldest prince continued. "I know… I know he has your affection as well. Lady Arwen, would you… would you accept him as your husband in my stead?"

Shock rippled through the entire gathering. Arwen's mouth dropped open, and Legolas could feel Aragorn tense where he stood.

"Why do you do this, Thalion?" Arwen asked, her voice shaking from the hurt she had been holding back. "Legolas will always be dear to me, but my heart has been given to you! I was prepared to be betrothed to you! How can you expect me to now turn to him?"

Thalion suppressed the urge to take the lady he loved in his arms. "You may feel only affection for him tonight, dear Arwen," he replied. "But… you will learn to love him as you do me." His face reflected how his heart must have been breaking inside. "You will find no better life companion, Arwen; and Legolas – the Evenstar will be perfect for you."

"_No_, she is perfect for _you_!" Legolas protested vehemently amidst the other voices in the room that had burst out in bewildered rage. "Thalion, please think about this!"

"I cannot put your future in jeopardy, Legolas!" Thalion argued. "Remember _naneth_'s words. Do you not trust them? I do not want us to ignore them and regret it!"

At Thalion's reminder which only the Mirkwood royals understood, various questions and protests from the Imladris elves exploded at the same time, and no one could understand what anyone else was trying to say – till one voice rang out and drowned them all out.

"_Silence!_" Lord Elrond boomed, raising his hands and effectively quelling the chaos. "Silence - this is enough!"

Words on the tips of tongues were held back as everyone turned to look at the fierce expression on the face of the Lord of Imladris. "It's about time someone shed some light on what is happening here, so we can all understand!" he said. "Perhaps you, my lord Thranduil, will do us that favor."

All eyes turned to the elven king now, waiting for his response. Thranduil looked at each of his sons in turn, thoughts tumbling in his mind. What would the Imladris elves think about a conviction that his family had held precious since the birth of Legolas – but which might appear to others as an odd belief? Even among the Mirkwood nobles who had accompanied them on this trip, and who were now waiting in confusion on the grounds, very few of them knew about the Stone.

"Well, my lord Thranduil?" Elrond pressed a little impatiently. "Will you enlighten us?"

The elven king sighed, and his shoulders sagged. "I will," he said at last.

And there – to the astonishment of all who listened – the Mirkwood monarch narrated the story of the strange green stone that had dropped from above a day before Legolas' birth, of the strange light within it, of the music his wife had heard, and of the Queen's demise a year later.

"Legolas was only a babe when his_ naneth_ passed," the King explained in a voice that almost shook with painful memories. "But before she was taken from us, she gave her last blessing upon the child in her arms, and told us that the green stone would be the guide to his eventual happiness."

The room hushed in respect of the King's melancholic recollection, but the Imladris elves still could not understand the full meaning of the tale – till he spoke again.

"The parting words of Legolas' _naneth_ were that he would find his soul mate in the one with the other half of the stone," he said sadly ""She truly believed in the signs she had been shown… so you can understand why, since Legolas' infancy, we had never seen any alternative but to honor her dying words."

Turning to Arwen, the king continued. "That green stone hanging about your neck, Arwen – the moment you appeared on the grounds, we could all see that it is the mate of the one that Legolas has kept since his birth," he said. "Had Arwen chosen Legolas to wed, all would have been clear. But Arwen and Thalion chose each other… and we did not see the stone till tonight. That is why Thoronthalion – my honorable, self-sacrificing son – has proposed giving up a marriage with Arwen for the sake of his brother."

The king gave Arwen a look of fondness. "Thalion has never deceived you, Arwen; he is merely acting out of love for Legolas," he explained. Then the king addressed Elrond. "Forgive us this untimely and unfortunate disruption, Lord Elrond. We came here with the truest of intentions. We just did not expect this situation. I am proud to receive Arwen into my family one way or another – but the matter of the betrothal… aaah, what a predicament!"

"But the Stone… this green stone that you say complements Arwen's," Elladan said in puzzlement when the king had finished. "Where is it?"

"It is here," Legolas said quietly, and everyone turned to look at him. The prince drew it out of its protective pouch and wordlessly handed it to his father. Every pair of eyes in the room followed it till Thranduil held it out on his palm for all to see. Legolas saw Aragorn watching it from a distance with hard eyes, and the elf walked quietly to stand at his side, struggling for words to say to the man.

The silence that followed was deafening as everyone tried to process the tale that had just been told and the implications of it for everyone concerned. Then suddenly six or seven voices filled the air, with the beginnings of questions or exclamations of disbelief or suggestions.

Aragorn heard only a frantic "But…!" from Arwen before he turned ashen and pulled Legolas out of the room into the hallway. Too stunned by the sight of the stone and Thranduil's tale, or too wrapped up in the ensuing outburst of arguments – none of the others noticed their departure.

Aragorn's eyes grew hard as he confronted Legolas in the hallway. "Why did you not tell me this, Legolas?" he asked in a voice filled with pain. "You knew how I feel about you. Why did you hide this from me?"

The elf grasped Aragorn's arms and looked at him with wide eyes. "Oh, Aragorn, do not think that!" he said pleadingly. "I was going to tell you tonight; I truly planned to! I… I did not know how to tell you earlier because I was trying to find out how the stone might possibly be related to you!"

"That's a good question," the man said bitterly. "Just how could the green stone have anything to do with me? Just how could I ever hope to be with you?"

The elf felt as if he was being sliced by the sharp sorrow in the man's eyes, but before he could utter another word, his name rang through the air. "Legolas!" Thranduil called for him from the library.

The elf placed a gentle hand on Aragorn's cheek and looked at him pleadingly. "Please, Aragorn, neither of us knows that answer yet; there is much I still do not understand, but perhaps we can find out more now," he said.

"Legolas!" Alkarmenel called, appearing at the door of the library. "_Adar_ calls for you – there is more to talk about. Hasten!" The elf disappeared back into the room.

"I must go," Legolas said to Aragorn, running his long fingers lovingly through the dark curls. "Come, Aragorn, let us see what we can learn."

Aragorn said nothing at first, feeling only bitter bile in his mouth. Then a sad look entered his eyes and he studied the face of the elf before him with a mixture of tenderness and disappointment. "Go on ahead, Legolas," he said quietly. "I need some time to think."

Legolas' face fell, but he could understand how upset Aragorn must be. Glancing quickly around them to make sure no one was watching, he pressed his lips to Aragorn's and gave the man a brief but heartfelt kiss. "We will resolve this somehow, Estel," he said as he withdrew, hoping he sounded convincing.

A strange fire lit in the eyes of the young man at those words, but only for a moment before it died. Then he smiled a brief, bitter smile. "It will be resolved one way or another," he said in a hollow voice, and would say no more.

Reluctantly, Legolas released his hold on the man's arms and returned to the library, but before he went in, he turned back to look at Aragorn, who stood staring at the space before him, stone-faced and silent. The man's hand went slowly to his neckline and rested there, and something told the elf that his fingers had found the necklace of golden hair that rested ever there. Legolas' heart clutched to see the man he loved in so much pain, and hoped that the night would bring a better end.

As soon as Legolas entered the room, he saw everyone gathered around Arwen and Thalion, engaged in an animated discussion. But the golden-haired elf noted, to his surprise, that the looks on the faces of those gathered seemed a little less despairing.

"Legolas – there you are! Come here, _ion nin_," Thranduil said when his eyes fell on his youngest son. "Come listen to this: it is something we did not consider or realize."

Puzzled, Legolas approached his father and Menel, wondering what could have transpired while he was out of the room. But it was Lord Elrond who addressed him.

"First, allow me to ask you this, child," the elf lord said gently. Gone was the look of ire that had been on his face before. "I mean no offence to your departed _naneth_, but could you tell us how you feel about Arwen?"

Taken aback, Legolas looked to his father for guidance, but Thranduil merely smiled quietly and told his son: "Speak the truth, Legolas."

Legolas swallowed and turned to Thalion, who offered no different advice.

"The truth, little one," the eldest prince said gently, giving his brother an encouraging smile.

Legolas knew Thalion was putting on a brave smile for his sake. If he were to say he loved Arwen, Thalion would sacrifice his own happiness for him, he knew. _Thank the Valar I do not love her in that way_, he thought. _I love another, but how much of that truth should I tell? _

The young prince bit on his lower lip and finally looked at Arwen. "My lady…" he began nervously, and stopped. _Is it time to reveal what has gone on between Aragorn and myself? _he wondered.

"Just tell us how you feel," Thranduil prompted, seeing his son's hesitation.

Even without looking around, Legolas could feel all the eyes trained on him. He drew a deep breath and decided on what to say. "Lady Arwen," he began on a bolder tone. "You had and will always have my undying affection," he declared. "But I do not feel for you the way Thalion does. I – I apologize if that is an offense, for I do not mean it as such."

Legolas looked at Arwen to see if there might be a hint of embarrassment on her face, but she there seemed to be none, and the absence of it gave him courage to go on. "Yet... you have the companion piece of the Stone my mother claimed to be my guide to a soul mate... Now, I do not know what all this means, but..... I have spoken the truth. Lord Elrond, you asked me a question, and there you have my answer."

Legolas stopped and looked straight at the elf lord, not knowing what to expect. Then to his relief – and to everyone else's, it seemed – the elf lord's lips curved into a hint of a smile, and he was joined by many around the room, including Thalion's.

"Did I say something right?" Legolas asked in a small voice, looking around, and his question was pleasantly greeted with more smiles, all of them a little uncertain and hesitant, but they were smiles nonetheless.

Alkarmenel came to his side and placed an arm around him. "Confused, are you, _tithen pen_?" he asked, and the lack of a protest from Legolas at the use of the nickname affirmed that the youngest prince was indeed baffled. "Lady Arwen," Alkarmenel continued. "Perhaps you would be so kind as to tell Legolas how the Stone came to you?"

Legolas was even more puzzled now. "How the Stone came to you?" he echoed as he turned to Arwen. He shook his head at his own lack of alertness. He had been so used to being in possession of his own half of the stone that he had not even thought about how Arwen had come about hers. The others had obviously been discussing it in his absence, and he could not believe his ears when she revealed the information to him.

"It was the departed Lady Gilraen who gave it to me soon after she came here," Arwen explained, amused by the expression of surprise that appeared on the elf prince's face.

"Lady Gilraen?" he asked in a breathless tone. "And… and how did the stone come to her?'

"That is the interesting part," said Arwen. "She said she had been walking down by the river with Estel – he was still toddling about then – when he stepped on the stone on the river bank and cut his foot on it."

Legolas blinked. _Estel? _he thought. _He stepped on the stone? It was he who first encountered it? _

The elf felt his heart stop for a moment as he began to realize what this might mean. He listened to Arwen as one spellbound, hardly daring to hope.

"Lady Gilraen picked it up, and she became fascinated with it when she thought she saw some light moving in it," Arwen continued. "She brought it back here and had it made into a pendant for me. I accepted it readily, for it is indeed unusual, with a strange beauty to it." The elleth fingered the pendant then, her eyes growing wistful. "The lady considered it mine from then on, and it has been in my possession since. But now…"

Legolas hardly dared to breathe when Arwen looked up at him. "Now that I know the implication of owning this gem, I can no longer lay claim to it," she said. "I would not wish to."

"Then….then the Stone is Estel's!" Legolas said brightly, his eyes growing wide. He saw, in that one shining moment, the solution to all their problems: both Arwen and Thalion's as well the worry that had been plaguing them him and Aragorn. His thoughts flew to the man he loved waiting in the hallway outside, and he could not wait to share the news with him.

"Yes, it seems that the Stone rightly belongs to Estel, not Arwen," Lord Elrond agreed. "And since you have confessed that you have no desire to wed Arwen in any case, Legolas, can we assume that we can resume the betrothal plans for Thalion and Arwen?"

The resounding "yea!" and the beaming smiles of relief and joy that appeared on everyone's face – particularly those of Thalion and Arwen – were all that Legolas could have wished for this night. There remained only one person to break the happy news to, and Legolas almost shouted it out in his happiness – but he had forgotten that no one else knew about them yet, about the love that had grown between them.

"Now that the truth has surfaced and resolved one problem," Lord Elrond said, "another comes to mind. If the Stone belongs to Estel – Aragorn – what does this mean for you, Legolas? What does it say?"

The whole room fell silent again as they pondered on the question Elrond had raised, and now all eyes turned to Legolas, who suddenly blushed a bright red and lowered his face to hide his feelings.

"Indeed," Thranduil said, looking curiously at his son. "What could that mean, Legolas?" When Legolas remained silent, a suspicion grew in the king's mind. He approached his son and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Legolas, is there something you wish to tell us?" he prompted.

Before he could answer, Thalion walked over and spoke to him in a low tone. "You did tell me some time ago that someone had claimed your heart, Legolas," the eldest prince said. "I thought then it was an _elleth_." Thalion's eyes twinkled as he asked: "Is it not?"

Legolas thought furiously, wondering what to do, what to say. He could not go on hiding the truth forever. _Perhaps it is time_, he decided. He looked up at his father and brother with a face so full of nervous determination that their hearts softened immediately.

"Yes, _Adar_, Thalion… there is something I wish to tell you – tell everyone," the prince admitted in a low tone. "But… but… you should hear it from… from both of us."

"Both of you?" asked Lord Elrond, raising an eyebrow as a suspicion arose in his mind as well. "You – and Estel?"

"Aye, my lord," Legolas answered a little more boldly.

The elf lord looked around the room with searching eyes. "Well, where is he?" he asked, a little curious over Estel's absence from this important gathering.

"He is outside," Legolas said, smiling. "I will ask him to come in, my lord." So saying, the prince almost sprinted out of the library in his eagerness for him and Aragorn to speak openly about their love.

"Aragorn!" he called out as soon as he was out the door. "Aragorn, we can te –"

The elf prince stopped in his tracks and blinked. The hallway where Aragorn had been standing before was now empty.

"Aragorn?" Legolas called again, looking around. The man must have grown bored and left to seek some fresh air, he thought, bemused. _Oh, Aragorn – what a time to make me go looking for you, _he chided the man silently.

Not wishing to keep the others waiting, he ran down the hallway towards the front doors of the elven refuge, intending to seek Aragorn on the grounds where the festivities had been halted. Rounding a corner, he almost crashed into Luindel, an elf who was usually friendly with Aragorn.

"Have you seen Estel – Aragorn – on the grounds?" Legolas asked hopefully after offering his apologies.

Luindel knitted his eyebrows, thinking. "No, my lord… not since Lord Elrond and all of you removed to the library so suddenly," the elf answered. "I hope that whatever matter caused it has been settled, and we can continue with the celebrations?"

"Yes, yes," Legolas answered quickly, trying not to be rude. "All has been resolved, save one matter, and that is why I seek Aragorn."

"Let us look for him then," Luindel offered, and the two elves proceeded to the grounds where the other Mirkwood nobles and inhabitants of Imladris were talking quietly, awaiting the return of their lords and visitors. To Legolas' disappointment, Aragorn was nowhere to be seen there.

The Mirkwood nobles stepped up to their youngest prince immediately. "Is something wrong, my prince?" one of them asked. "Why have the celebrations been delayed?"

"It is only a temporary setback," Legolas answered courteously, though his eyes were darting around the grounds. "Everyone will be out here again soon, but now I seek Aragorn."

"Perhaps he has retired to his room to wait," Luindel suggested. "Sometimes, when he is upset, he hides away to brood." The elf grinned amusedly as he set off with Legolas in the direction of the man's room.

Legolas said nothing, but frowned uneasily. Aragorn had been upset by the tale of the Stone and had seemed extremely bitter over the thought that Legolas' future might have been tied to Arwen instead of him. He hoped the man would be cheered after hearing about Arwen's revelation about the origins of the stone.

Upon reaching the door of Aragorn's room, Legolas knocked on it and called out.

"Aragorn?" he said, but received no answer. The dear man must have fallen asleep, or is being obstinate, but there would soon be cause to celebrate, the elf thought.

"Come, Aragorn, open the door, we need to talk," Legolas coaxed.

When there was still no answer from Aragorn, Luindel frowned. "Perhaps he sleeps," the elf suggested. He gave Legolas a quick glance before he turned the knob. It turned immediately and the door opened.

"It was unlocked," Luindel remarked absently and stepped in, followed by the prince.

But the face Legolas expected to greet him was not there, nor was there any prone figure on the bed. The room was empty.

And at that moment, Legolas suddenly felt afraid.

His face paled even further when he saw some of Aragorn's clothes in disarray on the bed – and a note on top of them. He reached the bed in two strides and picked it up with trembling fingers. His blood seemed to turn to ice as he read what it said:

_I have lost everything, I have lost my light. I go to meet my destiny. _

Legolas blanched, and a small cry came from his lips. "No, no…" he murmured as the note fluttered to the floor.

"What is it?" Luindel asked, alarmed at the prince's abrupt pallor. By the time he had retrieved the note from the floor and read it, Legolas was already out the door and racing towards the grounds with his heart in his mouth. Luindel followed closely on his heels, startling several elves along the way.

They ran about, asking if anyone had seen Aragorn leave, but no one had. Then Legolas stiffened and looked at Luindel.

"The stables!" he gasped, and the elves raced madly in that direction. When they reached the stables, Legolas felt the blood drain from him when he found the stall of Aragorn's horse empty.

The solemn words on Aragorn's note stabbed at Legolas' heart, and it was then that he had to accept – though he did not want to – that Aragorn had truly left Imladris.

"Oh Estel, Estel, where have you gone?" he said in a piteous tone. "Why, why did you not wait?" The elf prince sobbed, unable to hold back the tears that sprang unbidden to his wide blue eyes. He felt his knees buckle, but Luindel held him steady.

"What has happened, my lord?" the elf asked, stunned.

Legolas could say nothing at first, feeling numb with shock. _What do you mean by going to meet your destiny, Estel? _he asked the absent man._ Where have you gone? Out into the wilds? Alone? _He began to feel sick with fear for Aragorn. _Why did you leave me?_

"We… we have to inform… Lord Elrond…" he stammered at last to the perplexed elves who had gathered around them.

Still dazed with shock, he went back to the library to find both families waiting anxiously for him and Aragorn. Looking at the puzzled faces of his family and Lord Elrond's, he swallowed the tears that threatened to spill anew, and uttered two words: "He's gone."

His chest constricted as he forced himself to tell them rapidly in a choked voice everything that had developed between him and Aragorn, and about the man's bitter disappointment over the green stone, about his sudden departure and the note he had left. And at the end of his confession, the elf's voice caught in his throat.

"We… we have to ride out and find him," he finished brokenly. "He's alone out there!" Then the dam broke, and his tears flowed fast and furious as he gave in to his worry for Aragorn. Everyone else was just as distraught.

"I know where he must have gone," Elrond said gravely. "He was contacted recently by the Rangers – the remnants of his people. They left word where they lie in hiding: in secret places where few will venture or find them unless they know where to look. Aragorn was struggling with the choice: to remain here, or to join them and become one of them, eventually to lay claim to his bloodline and heritage." The elf lord sighed and looked sadly at Legolas. "I fear he will have gone to seek them, child. It would have happened sooner or later; perhaps it really is his destiny."

"But not like this!" Legolas protested. "Not in anger, not when his heart is so… so devastated. I must find him… tell him the truth about the green stone."

"It will be hard to trace him," Elrohir said. "We taught him well; he can move silently and cover his tracks very skillfully. But even so - "

"We must try," Elladan continued. "Come!"

"Oh, Estel, Estel!" Arwen lamented in sorrow as Elrohir and Elladan sprang into action to organize a search party. "If only we had known all this before – I would never have kept the stone! It is rightly his; his blood was even spilled by that stone!"

"And now it seems even clearer who your soul mate would be, Legolas," said Thalion, equally distraught. "But let us tarry no longer. Come, let us join the others."

Without another word, the elves of Imladris and Mirkwood set out immediately on an urgent mission to look for Aragorn. They searched all night, and in many places, but Elrohir was right: Aragorn had learned too well, and the night made it even harder to see the signs of his leaving that he had covered effectively. By dawn, Elrond was certain that the man was far gone from Imladris, and they called off the search for the moment. They would resume it later, when the elves had made more preparations.

Weary and devastated. Legolas had to be cajoled hard by his brothers before he would agree to return to Imladris. He was in a greater turmoil than he had ever felt. Now that he was certain that he could follow his feelings about Aragorn, would it be too late?

"Perhaps he needs to find himself first," said Lord Elrond consolingly. "But if his heart lies with you, Legolas, he will come back to you."

In his mind, Legolas knew that the elf lord was right, but his own heart still felt rent into pieces. He spent the following day alone in the woods where he and Aragorn had first made love, tortured by the memories of Aragorn's smile and laughter and even his brooding silence.

_Will you come back to me, Estel? _he asked silently. When he closed his eyes, he could feel the man's warm lips and body against his, and he felt the agony of the man's absence. Warm, wet tears trailed down the fair cheeks of the prince that he would hide from everyone else, speaking his innermost feelings only to the sighing breeze and sympathetic trees. "When will I see you again, Aragorn?" he whispered.

He would not have been able to bear it had he known then that he would not see his 'little Estel' again for another sixty years.

* * *

_Thanks to all who reviewed the previous chapter and who keep coming back for more angst. _:)


	14. Waking Up

**WARNING**: Bedroom Scene in this chapter.

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**Chapter 14**: **Waking Up **

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_I tried to go on like I never knew you_

_I'm awake but my world is half-asleep._

_I pray that my heart will be unbroken,_

_but without you all I'm going to be is_

_Incomplete. _

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For the six decades after that fateful night at Imladris, when truths of all sorts had been revealed about the Stone and a hitherto hidden relationship, Legolas lived in a world which only felt half-complete.

Happiness should have been the outcome of that occasion that had begun with a joyful premise. But it had ended in sadness for many hearts, none more so than those of an elf prince and an impetuous young man – both still raw in the ways of life and love. That night, which should have been a wonderful moment for the two lovers, was the start of many restless days and nights for Legolas. For two weeks, the elves of Imladris conducted a fruitless search for a Ranger who did not wish to be found. Aragorn had obviously enlisted the aid of highly experienced Dunedain to remain hidden, and the Rangers told the elves nothing.

The elf prince evnetually returned to Mirkwood, plagued by the agonizing thought that perhaps the man he loved had decided to abandon a relationship that had been fraught with so much uncertainty, and that Aragorn – his little Estel – loved him no more in return.

Two years after Aragorn's abrupt departure from Imladris, Elrond's elves finally came upon him in the Ranger settlement, when he happened to be back from a long period in the Wilds. Overjoyed, the elves gave him the news of all that had taken place that night: Legolas had learnt the truth about the green stone's origins; Arwen had, after much discussion on both sides, wedded Thoronthalion as planned, and had returned with Legolas to Mirkwood, where she was now part of the royal family.

Everyone expected Aragorn to receive this news with happiness, but they were dismayed to find that his heart had been hardened. A strange light of sadness flared briefly in his eyes; then he merely walked away. It was Halbarad, his fellow Ranger and kinsman, who explained his behavior to the puzzled messengers of Elrond.

"Do not be offended, my friends," Halbarad said apologetically. "Aragorn has been tortured in mind and spirit for a long time. When he first left Imladris, he suffered through sleepless nights or had painful nightmares when he did sleep. For months, he had to battle his emotions, shedding many, many tears; then he had forced himself to accept his fate because he thought he had lost Legolas."

The elves nodded in silent understanding as their eyes followed the retreating figure of Aragorn. Halbarad sighed and continued. "First, he was robbed of his own home among Men, then he lost the two people he loved most in the world… and now he's faced with the tremendous task of delivering Middle-earth from a Dark Lord he does not even know," Halbarad said softly almost to himself, though he had a captive audience. "Can anyone blame him for growing dour and bitter?"

No one answered him, but Halbarad knew that the elves were completely in sympathy. "He once told me he'd chosen to close his heart against all affection," the Ranger continued. "He wanted only to devote himself to his duties among us – Rangers without real homes. This was his destiny, he had decided, not to live in peace with Legolas or anyone else. And now… now you bring this news which is a bit of a shock to him."

Halbarad looked at the elves then, asking for their understanding. "I know you expect him to regain what was once a love between him and Legolas, but I honestly cannot tell if he will change his mind – or if he does, whether it will be any time soon. I think he's grown afraid: afraid to hope, afraid of risking yet another loss, for who can tell what else might happen?" Halbarad's face filled with pity for his kinsman and his future king. "Aragorn has borne a lot of pain in his young life – we have to give him time."

So the elves brought the disappointing news back to Elrond – and thence on to Mirkwood. Aragorn did indeed, as Halbarad had predicted, choose to remain hardened. He returned only briefly to see his foster family every five years or so, and even then, he spoke little, only taking care to pay his respects to Lord Elrond and to brief the elves on the threats they faced from Sauron. It was during that time that he become acquainted with Gandalf, and from the wizard, he learnt much about the realm he was supposed to rule one day. To learn even more, he traveled in secret to many places in Middle-earth and served in the armies of Rohan and Gondor, using different names so that no one would know that he was the true heir to the throne.

The one place he avoided in the six decades was Mirkwood, where dwelt the person he refused to talk about. Elrond and Gandalf could not truly know if the man refused to talk about Legolas because he was trying to overcome the feelings he had once had for the elf – or because he could not forget him and was hurting from it.

This news about Aragorn Legolas received from time to time from visiting elves, and once in a long while from Gandalf himself. Part of the elf prince wished Aragorn would trust him enough to come to him, for he wanted the chance to assure the man that he would never let him down. But part of him conceded that things had been uncertain when they were last together, and he could not blame the young man for being afraid to risk being hurt again.

So Legolas' heart cried and bled for Aragorn. There were many days when he wished to ride off to look for the now elusive Ranger, but he did not know where to start his search, for Aragorn seemed to be in a different place each time Mirkwood received news of him.

In addition, Legolas understood that the heir of Isildur had to lie low, in order to be safe from discovery, and so Legolas never acted on his desire to seek Aragorn. He respected the man's wishes to stay hidden, and was also afraid to initiate a search that would reveal Aragorn's identity to the wrong people.

The elf prince himself did not fall in love with anyone else, and preferred instead to be alone, growing more aloof than he had been before during the sixty years he lived during his separation from Aragorn. Each morning he would awake telling himself to be strong, to push aside a memory that brought both sweetness and sorrow to him, and to get through the day as a prince of the Woodland Realm should. He surrounded himself with duties and work, involving himself more and more in guarding their kingdom against the growing darkness of Dol Guldur in the South that threatened to encroach into their beloved Greenwood. Most nights, he would be too mercifully exhausted and fall into a weary sleep before he could let the painful memories overwhelm him.

But he never forgot the one man he loved, and hungered for any news of Aragorn he could obtain, from whatever sources they came.

One day, it was Lord Elrond and Gandalf who had come to Mirkwood with news. Legolas listened intently as they spoke of the Shadow that was now growing more powerful, for the One Ring had been found, and the Three Elven Rings were losing power. Gandalf was now watching the situation, and did not seem hopeful.

"The time of the elves is coming to a close here in Middle-earth," the wizard had said in solemn warning. "Men must now act – and Aragorn must lead them."

Legolas' ears pricked up at once, though not a word left his lips.

"Will he not take up that role?" asked Thranduil, aware of his son's attention to the news. "Has he not been actively learning more about Gondor?"

Gandalf sighed before he answered. "He has indeed been doing that," the wizard replied. "But I cannot say the same for his preparations to take the throne of Gondor. He seems very… disheartened, discouraged… almost spiritless." The wizard paused, absently puffing on his pipe. "He appears reluctant to pursue his heritage to the end. I think he prefers to remain a Ranger."

"Well, surely that is understandable," said Arwen defensively, for she had looked after Estel for many years of his childhood, and had never lost her fondness for him. "It is a much safer role to play than being the future King of Gondor – the one who has to challenge Sauron."

Elrond nodded in agreement. "It is true," he conceded with a sigh. "I love him as my own – yet I am ever aware of his true lineage. The world of Men _does_ need him, and for their sake, he must meet his destiny and fight to claim his throne."

"Yes, we have to find something to make him want to challenge Sauron," said Gandalf.

"But the fate of Middle-earth and the realms of Men," Thranduil said. "Do they not provide enough motivation?"

Gandalf shook his head without looking up. "Apparently not yet," he replied. "But I suppose all we can do is wait and see if they will."

Legolas said nothing throughout the discussion, but as he listened, his heart grew heavier. While he shared the other elves' concern over the fate of Middle-earth, his anxiety was targeted at Aragorn, and his prayer was for Aragorn to be safe.

_There are enough hearts worrying about the world, _he said silently to an Aragorn who was not there. _Let me worry about you._

There were times like that evening, when neither work nor duty could claim his attention, when his sorrow would not stay buried. Then Legolas would excuse himself and seek his place of solitude in his special tree where he would give free rein to all he felt. He would let his tears flow unchecked, with only the trees and the wind and the birds as hushed and sympathetic witnesses.

Today was one such day. It was exactly sixty years to the day that Aragorn had first departed, leaving Imladris in turmoil and Legolas in deep pain. Legolas sat in his tree, leaning back against the strong stem and closing his eyes.

"Aragorn…" he whispered tearfully to the absent loved one. "By the end of this day, I will not have seen you for sixty years. How are you faring, my beloved Estel? Are you safe and well? How are you being treated?" Then he choked as he asked: "Will I ever see you again?"

All of the woods around him bowed in sorrow with him as he sobbed. Sixty years was a brief span of time for an elf, Legolas knew, but he wondered whether that length of time would show upon Aragorn, and what the man was like now. Then, although the thought was like a spear through his heart, he wondered if Aragorn had forgotten him.

With a twinge of guilt, he suddenly thought about his family, and he hung his head. He knew how they had all shared his pain and tried to help him. They had all done their best to comfort him and take his mind off Aragorn, but they all knew – though it saddened them to admit it – their beloved Legolas still carried the love of his life in his gentle heart.

Slowly, he descended his tree; it was almost time for dinner, and he did not wish for Thalion to come and call for him as the older prince still did sometimes. In addition, they had earlier received news that Gandalf was approaching Mirkwood with an important discovery, and Legolas could not help wondering if it included news of the man he thought of day and night.

Truly enough, as they were sitting down to dinner, an elf entered the dining room and announced the arrival of Gandalf. The royal family quickly rose and went outside eagerly to meet the Istari. His presence was always welcome, for his tales of the outside world were much valued.

This evening, however, they found more than Gandalf waiting for them, for at the end of a leash which he held on to securely, was a strange creature: dark, gaunt, and dirty, reeking of a foul smell that assailed their sensitive noses even from a distance. The creature sometimes stood on two feet but sometimes crouched on all fours. He snarled and shrieked, pulling violently on the leash and trying to free himself.

"Be still!" Gandalf commanded fiercely, pointing his staff at the creature. The loud voice of the wizard cowed the creature for a while, who covered his face and slunk whimpering into the shadows under some trees.

"Keep an eye – the more eyes the better – on him!" Gandalf instructed some astonished and open-mouthed elves nearby as he handed the leash to them. As the wary elves did his bidding, leading the creature away at arrow-point, the wizard walked over to an equally astonished royal family who had been watching the whole scene.

"Let me guess, my lord Gandalf," said a wide-eyed Alkarmenel. "That is Gollum?"

Gandalf laughed. "It is indeed, young one!" he replied. "We found him wandering about near Dol Guldur, obviously up to no good, I'll warrant. With your leave, my lord Thranduil, I would like him to remain here – under the watchful scrutiny of your wood-elves." Gandalf lowered his voice then. "You know his history; you know how he desires to look for the One Ring, and we cannot afford to let him find it."

Thranduil's lips set in a straight line. "I have no love for this creature, and would just as soon drive him from my realm," he said frankly. "But I will do as you ask, my old friend. Let it not be said that the elves of the Greenwood would not do their part in helping to keep the Ring safe from the wrong hands."

Gandalf gave a rueful smile. "We thank you," he said softly, brushing his beard and looking tired.

"You must desire refreshment," said Thalion, as polite as ever. "We were about to dine, and you are, as always, just on time! But before we go in, I must ask you a question. Twice now you have said 'we,' and once to thank us, so I know it cannot be the creature you speak of, for he would certainly not thank us for keeping him under guard! Who is it, therefore, that comes with you?"

A twinkle entered Gandalf's wizened eyes then, and a smile lit his tired face. He drew himself up to his full height and looped his thumbs through the belt of his well-worn long robe.

"Did I not say, now?" he asked in an almost mischievous tone. "Indeed, I did come with someone – he helped me track down Gollum and capture him. He's about here somewhere, perhaps washing up a tad." The wizard looked around the darkening grounds of the Mirkwood Palace Caves, peering into the shadows. "Ah, here he comes!" he exclaimed, turning back to the family. "And young Legolas here may be eager to see him."

Then from a darkened corner of the grounds, walking calmly in, came a grim-looking, dirty and obviously weary figure. He had indeed tried to wash himself a little, for his stubbled face was wet. His blue-grey eyes were like deep pools of experience – seeing much but showing little. His clothes were travel-worn, and his long, dark hair was in dire need of grooming.

But to Legolas, the tall man was the most beautiful sight in Middle-earth.

The man was older now, the innocence of youth was no longer on his countenance, but he was one of the Dunedain, one of the few remaining of the race of Numenor who lived far longer than most Men. And so the passage of sixty years had merely matured him. The years could not hide the strong lines of his handsome face, nor remove the cleft in his chin that the elf had loved since the man had been a child.

"Aragorn," the prince breathed when he finally found his voice. His wide, unblinking blue eyes took in the vision of the person he had been thinking of each moment of his past sixty years. His feet were rooted to the spot as Aragorn approached slowly, the eyes of the man fixed on the elven ones.

"Estel," Legolas said again shakily, hardly daring to believe that the man was finally before him, real… or was he real? Was this but a dream, a cruel teasing dream? He found his eyes beginning to grow moist with unbidden tears.

At the sight of the tears, the man halted briefly, his brows knitting. His jaw was set in a hard line as he drew in a breath and remembered his manners. Turning to the astonished King of Mirkwood, he bowed.

"My lord," he said softly before giving a stunned Arwen, Thalion and Alkarmenel similar small smiles of greeting.

Then he turned back to Legolas, and his face that held both gladness and regret melted the heart of the young prince. For a long moment, the two friends and lovers could only gaze at each other – with joy, sorrow, and uncertainty in their eyes. The whole group of elves and one Istari shared their muteness, and even the trees seemed hushed.

Then the man spoke. "You have not changed at all, my prince," he said quietly. "The world could not touch your beauty."

Legolas released a tiny sob then that he could not hold back, and of one accord, man and elf moved towards each other and locked in a close embrace. As they held each other tightly and buried their faces in each other's hair, the years fell away. They wept as their emotions came undone, not caring who was watching.

"Aragorn… Estel," Legolas said tearfully, his voice shaking with both joy and disbelief. "How long I have waited to see you again!"

"Forgive me, my prince," Aragorn uttered softly in reply, his own voice strangled as his arms tightened around the elven body he had missed so badly. "Forgive me for leaving!"

Legolas shook his head as vehemently as he could while being held so tightly. "None of it was your fault - none of it!" he said through sobs. "Things were so uncertain... and I wish... I wish I had..."

"Shhh, hush, my prince," Aragorn whispered into the elf's ear. "I lay no blame on you either, Legolas. I should not have left."

Many were the eyes that closed in quiet joy or filled with tears at this emotional reunion of the friends and lovers, and dinner went forgotten for a while as the Mirkwood royal family – and Arwen not the least – greeted Aragorn with sincere gladness.

"You cannot know how it lightens our hearts to see you again, Estel!" said the beautiful _elleth_ as she kissed the man lovingly on his bristled cheeks. "And Legolas' most of all! While we have all missed you, he has been in nothing short of agony all these years."

As Legolas tried to hide the shadow of the pain he had borne and the man's face became clouded with regret, Thranduil looked upon them in sympathy and decided to give them some time alone.

"Come, Gandalf, old friend," he said. "Let us all adjourn to my dinner table – but perhaps Aragorn would prefer to wash a little first? Legolas, if you would be so good as to accompany our guest..."

His eyes shining with gratitude, Legolas watched the rest of his family return to the dining room while he led Aragorn speechlessly back to his own sleeping chamber. They passed several elves along the way who had not witnessed their meeting. Their eyes went wide with surprise at the sight of the Ranger, but politeness forbade questions or remarks on their part. Legolas himself had to exercise every ounce of self-restraint to keep his hands off the man he had not seen for sixty years, and he could sense that Aragorn was making a similar effort.

But at last, the two friends reached the prince's bedroom, and each released a long sigh. Great was their relief, but even greater was their anticipation of what they were each hoping would follow.

Legolas opened his door and let Aragorn enter first. Turning back to shut the door, the prince was suddenly struck by nervousness as the realization came crashing down upon him: that the man who had haunted all of his waking and sleeping moments was finally, finally here again. The euphoric joy he had felt upon first seeing Aragorn again now sank into a cold pit somewhere in his stomach, and his hands shook as he bolted the door. A hundred questions running through his mind, each begging to be asked.

_How are you, Estel? Where have you been? What kind of life have you led? Was I in your thoughts all those years? _

Then the questions that he most feared to ask came to mind, and he was assailed by doubt.

_Do you still love me as you once did? Or... have you found someone to take my place in your heart?_

But not one word left his lips.

Legolas could feel the unblinking gaze of human eyes upon his back, and he dared not turn around to face the owner of those blue-grey orbs that had mesmerized him sixty years ago. He closed his own eyes and discovered hot tears trailing down his cheeks. A small sob escaped his throat before he could check it. Then he felt gentle hands upon his shoulders and he found himself being spun around and encircled by strong arms.

He lifted his face to say something, but the warm lips of the Ranger crushed onto his – and speech became unnecessary. All the questions that had been spinning around in his mind flew away as he quickly became lost in a long-missed, desperate kiss. Calloused hands cupped the back of his neck and drew him ever closer as Aragorn kissed him hungrily, savoring his sweet breath and moaning into the delicate mouth. The man released the elven lips only long enough to wipe away the elf's tears before he captured them again.

Then after sixty years of fearful doubt, Legolas felt more confident that perhaps Aragorn's love for him had not waned.

"Estel, Estel…" Legolas moaned, tasting Aragorn's lips and tongue greedily and setting the man's own desire aflame. "I have missed you so greatly!"

"No more than I have missed you," Aragorn mumbled in reply.

Moments later, the travel-stained garb of the Ranger and the elegant attire of the elf prince lay on the floor in a tangled heap. "Beautiful, beautiful Legolas," Aragorn murmured feelingly as he seized the elven lips again and ran calloused hands fervently over the elf's fair, creamy skin.

While relishing the man's kiss, Legolas let his own fingers travel over the tanned skin of the Ranger, delighting in the hard muscles that ran from top to bottom – till he came to the juncture of the Ranger's thighs, but even that soon grew hard under his groping fingers.

"Aaaah, Legolas, you will undo me here and now," the man murmured huskily into the elven ear.

"Then be undone," Legolas returned boldly, looking into the blue-grey eyes. "It has been long enough."

"There is still so much to say –"

"Time enough for that later, Estel," the elf replied softly. "For now… let us give each the pleasure that has been taken from us for far too many years."

"Aaah, Legolas…" Aragorn lamented. "I wish nothing more than to taste that pleasure at this very moment, but I will not sully you with the grime of my travels. Please… first allow me the decency of a bath."

For the first time that evening since Aragorn's appearance, Legolas smiled. Dinner would be long over before he and Aragorn were done, but what they would have would be far more delicious.

Soon, the elf had run a bath warmed by the heat of a natural underground spring. With a long sigh of delight, the man stepped into the deep bath tub, soaking in the steaming fragrance of soaps and oils Legolas had added. Slowly and lovingly, the elf helped to wash the Ranger's lank hair and body, moving his hands slowly over the well-toned form. His fingers gently traced the many scars Aragorn had procured, no doubt while serving in the armies of Rohan and Gondor, and he longed to ask the man about them.

But there would be time later, Legolas decided, and for now, he simply wished to give the man a comforting bath.

Aragorn rested his head on the edge of the tub, melting under the feel of the gentle elven hands, feeling as if he was in a dream. For sixty years, he could not imagine ever being blessed with Legolas' lovely touch again. There was so much he had to say to the elf, so much…

Suddenly, he grasped Legolas' hands and held them still. The Ranger reached up with his own wet ones and cupped the cheek of the elf looking down at him.

"Gandalf says you have received news of my whereabouts and activities through the years," the Ranger said, seeking confirmation.

"Yes, I have," Legolas replied softly, lowering his eyes. "I… it took me time to understand why you left, to understand your fear… but I came to accept it."

Aragorn swallowed. "I… I tried to forget you, Legolas," he confessed sadly, running a finger along the elf's cheek. "But I could no more forget you than forget to breathe."

"But why? Why did you try to forget me?" Legolas asked, his brows furrowing and a note of hurt creeping into his voice. "_You_ never left my mind!" he added. "Nor did I ever wish for you to do so, for my heart beat only for you, only in the hopes of seeing you again some day!"

"I was foolish, Legolas!" Aragorn admitted in self-reproach, grasping the elven hands tightly. "I dared not hope for your love. There was the green stone… and Arwen… I thought it was hers…"

"It is yours, Aragorn!" Legolas insisted. "If only you had stayed to hear of it, Estel –"

"I know," the man conceded. "But… but there was also…" He lowered his eyes as he struggled to express thoughts that were obviously troubling him. "You… you'd never said that… that you loved me, Legolas."

"What!" Legolas exclaimed in disbelief. "Aragorn, you know I've always loved you!"

"Yes, but not as…as someone you love with… with all of yourself," the Ranger struggled to explain. "Legolas, you said you were not sure of your feelings then… and I was afraid… I was afraid I would always remain nothing more than a child to you."

Legolas felt a rush of regret within himself at those words as he recalled all the conversations they had had in Imladris. Aragorn was right: he had been struggling to understand how Aragorn and the green stone might be related; he had told Aragorn he needed time to sort things out; although he had loved the man with all his heart, he had not truly given Aragorn the assurance that the man would be the one to share his future. So, Legolas thought ruefully, the sixty-year separation had partly been due to his own hesitation at the time.

"Do you still love me as you would a child, Legolas?" the man asked in a small voice, looking up at him with pained eyes that almost broke the elf's heart.

Legolas was appalled. No longer would he allow any doubt within the Ranger now. He lifted the man's chin gently and looked down upon it with all the promise he could show upon his own face.

"Listen to me as I say it now, Estel," he said. "I love you," he stated evenly. "I love you, Estel the child, and Aragorn the man. I love you for whatever and whoever you have been – and whoever you will become!"

He bent close to the face below till their lips were but an inch apart. "Aragorn, _melleth nin_," he breathed. "My love, my love."

And Legolas sealed that assurance with a long, sweet kiss, the ends of his long hair trailing in the warm water. While Aragorn sighed in joy and held the elf's head to deepen the kiss, the elven hands continued to caress the man's body, going further and further downwards till they closed around a long, turgid shaft.

Legolas broke the kiss then. "Time to leave the water, don't you think, _melleth_?" he asked with a meaningful smile.

Aragorn did not need further persuasion. He soon emerged from the water and allowed Legolas to dry him off. Then, with a gentle growl, he bent slightly and scooped up the light elf easily, his strength having grown with the hard life he had led.

"I need to taste you now, my elf," he said huskily before he slammed his lips downwards onto the waiting ones below. Without breaking the kiss, he staggered out of the bath chamber with his beloved Legolas in his arms and sought the prince's soft, comfortable bed. Finding it, the Ranger placed his precious burden upon it and wasted no time in climbing on top of Legolas, bringing their arousals together – hot, hard flesh needing release.

Mercifully, no one disturbed them for the next hour as Aragorn and Legolas gave in to their desires held in check for six decades.

The man tasted Legolas from the tips of his ears to the depths of his mouth, and down the white milky plain of his chest and abdomen. Finally, he took the elf's arousal into the hot chamber of his mouth, causing the lean body to arch off the bed and writhe in pleasure.

Aragorn held Legolas' hips in place while his lips and tongue worked mercilessly on the elven shaft, sucking and grazing his teeth gently along the length, teasing Legolas again and again to the brink of release till the elf could take no more.

"Please, Aragorn!" Legolas begged, clawing at the bedsheets. "Please, please… aaaaah…"

Taking pity on Legolas, Aragorn gave a long, hard swipe of his tongue on the underside of the elven rod, and closed his mouth quickly over the top as the elf shot his seed into it. Aragorn drank Legolas' essence with great satisfaction, pleased that he could still pleasure the elf he loved after six decades. He watched in delight as Legolas moaned and called out his name in the throes of his pleasure, and when he had milked the elven rod dry, he rolled off to the side and, with a smile, waited patiently for the elf's breathing to even again.

To Aragorn's alarm, he saw tears leak from Legolas' closed eyes. Gently, he placed a palm on the elven cheek and turned the fair face towards him.

"Legolas, what's wrong?" he asked in fear. "Did I hurt you, my love? What did I do?"

Legolas grasped the man's hand and held it fast against his wet cheek. "Nay, Aragorn, nay!" the elf assured him through his tearful smile. "On the contrary… it is a pleasure I have not had since you left…"

A thrill of joy went through Aragorn when he realized that Legolas had not had another lover in his absence, for he himself had found no other, but his concern was not alleviated.

"Then why the tears, beloved?" he asked, still puzzled.

"Because," the elf said, running a slim finger along the man's bottom lip. "All the time you were away from me, it seemed like part of me was missing. I was never whole." His voice dropped to a sad whisper. "I felt only half-awake in the bright light of day, Aragorn, and only half-asleep when the world was in darkness."

Aragorn took hold of the elven finger playing along his lip and kissed it tenderly. _That is how I felt as well, my beloved_, he thought.

"And now…" Legolas continued. "It is only now that I have come awake. Only now do I feel… that the missing part of my life is back."

Aragorn ran his hands lovingly through the long, golden hair fanned out on the pillow around the beautiful face of the elf, and stroked the jawline softly. "So it is I who makes you feel complete then?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes, you silly Ranger, yes!" said the elf prince, smiling dreamily. He caught hold of Aragorn's dark head and pulled it down for a lingering kiss while his hands swept over the manly muscles on the Ranger's back.

Then, before Aragorn could realize what was happening, he found himself on his back with a grinning Legolas atop him. The blue eyes were filled with love and anticipation.

"My turn now," the elf declared softly before he used his lips and tongue and hands to drive the Ranger senseless.

An hour later, Aragorn and Legolas dragged themselves out of the room for a very late dinner. Aragorn also wished to pay his courtesies to King Thranduil and engage in conversation with the family. Sitting with them in the King's living room, he recounted to them where he had gone and what he had done to learn about Gondor during the past decades. The information he gave was no different from all that Gandalf and Lord Elrond had provided, but the details kept his audience rapt.

For close to two hours, questions came to him from all directions, and he answered them calmly and patiently. It became clear to all who listened just how hard a life Aragorn had led in the past sixty years, and how much danger he had had to face from orcs and other minions of Sauron who would not stop seeking his end, and how much death he had had to confront while serving in the armies of Rohan and Gondor.

As Aragorn spoke, Legolas admired how much the young man he had known was now an even more confident and wise soul – someone who would one day make a fine king for his people.

Yet, Aragorn no longer seemed to envision the same destiny for himself.

"I have seen much of Middle-earth – perhaps too much," the man said quietly when he had finished recounting his experiences. "It has been painful… so much hate and death and despair…" A bitter note crept into his voice as he continued. "I wish for nothing more now than to rest in some quiet place, where my body and spirit can heal, and so that I can spend time – much of which I lost from foolishness – with Legolas. That is all I desire, and I ask for nothing more."

Arwen and Legolas smiled at Aragorn in sympathy, ready to give him that which he so desired. Thranduil and Gandalf, however, exchanged a look of concern, but each shook his head at the other, sending a silent message: _He has to take the step to lead his people against Sauron, but there will be time enough to speak of that in the days to come_.

Thus, they refrained from saying anything on that matter, but bid Aragorn and Legolas a good night, and watched them retire – to one or two bed chambers, no one would question, for though Thranduil longed to give a word of warning to his youngest son, the father saw the smile of joy on the face of that son that had been missing for far too long. And thus, the father said nothing but trusted in the wisdom of his child.

Instead, it was Thoronthalion who had the last few words for Aragorn that night. "Aragorn, I thank you for the smile upon my brother's face," the eldest prince said quietly to the man, with a smile of his own. "I only ask, as my father would, that you understand his… innocence… and the honor of the elves, for it is you now who is the older, not in years, but in the ways of the world."

Aragorn looked steadily into the clear eyes of the concerned brother and gave him a reassuring nod. "Legolas' honor shall be intact, I assure you, Prince," the Ranger said, understanding the prince's unvoiced concern. "I love your brother, and though I foolishly caused him pain once, I would do only right by him from now on. You have my word."

His word was good enough for the older members of the royal family. And so for the rest of the night, man and elf were allowed to retire in peace. They sought pleasure in each other again, taking care not to breach a limit they each knew could not yet be crossed, and when they had sated their desires, they slept in each other's arms and received no interruption from an understanding outside world.

For that night at least, they were mercifully unaware of the events that would soon be touching their lives in unexpected ways.

* * *

_**Note: **I thank ALL the reviewers! (Hugs!) Please do keep reviewing – the fuel is welcome. _:)

_I must explain that the separation of sixty years allows the story to be somewhat consistent with the timeline of the canon story, in which Aragorn left Rivendell at the age of twenty to live with the Rangers, and he did live long years wandering - and unmarried - till after the Quest when he was more than 80 years of age. (I will not say more about where this story will lead from this point; the ensuing chapters will tell_. :)

_For those who think Aragorn would be old and decrepit at 80 - banish the thought. Because of his bloodline, he would still be a hunk._


	15. Terms and Conditions

**Chapter 15: Terms and Conditions**

In the three weeks following his reunion with Legolas in Mirkwood, Aragorn felt he had never been happier.

Not only did he have the relative safety of the elven realm in which to rest from his many years of labor and warfare, but he was doing it in the company of the elf he loved with all his heart. What made it even better was that they no longer had to hide their feelings from anyone because – against all their earlier fears – Legolas' family apparently accepted their relationship. Even though Aragorn knew that their acceptance was more for the elf prince's sake than his, it was enough for him, as long as it meant that he was free to be with Legolas, and as long as Legolas loved him back.

The man was also very happy in one other respect: while he was in Mirkwood, he was away from the hard, dangerous life he had led as a Ranger for sixty years, always in hiding, always alert, often fighting for his life or the lives of others. Here, he was distanced from the constant reminders of the Dark Lord and his bloodline and the heavy burden of Middle-earth's destiny that he bore because of that heritage. And though he knew the forces of Sauron were at work in the dark forests of Dol Guldur just south of the elven realm, he was in a relatively safe place, for the borders of Thranduil's kingdom were well guarded.

The only disruption to his time of rest came in the form of an unexpected visit from Lord Elrond, who turned up one evening as Aragorn and Gandalf had, much to the delight of his daughter. Glad, too, was the meeting between Elrond and Aragorn, the man he had taken into his home long ago, for despite the passage of years, the elf lord was still greatly fond of Estel, and was constantly concerned about his well-being and safety.

Elrond's purpose had not been solely to see his daughter, for he had come to talk about some disturbing news he had heard, meaning to seek confirmation from Gandalf, for the elf lord had heard of the wizard and Aragorn's arrival in Mirkwood.

"There is rumor that the One Ring has been found," he stated without ceremony as they sat down one day to discuss the affairs surrounding Sauron and the future of Middle-earth. "Is it true, Mithrandir?"

"I wish I could say otherwise, my old friend, but I'm afraid that the possibility is too strong for me to discount," answered the wizard. "Yes, I have heard that it has been found and that the creature Gollum got wind of where it is. I can tell you I have a very, very strong suspicion where it is and who has possession of it, and I mean to test it soon."

Then the wizard proceeded to tell his listeners about the Shire and the Hobbit folk, and how he suspected that one of them held the Ring without knowledge of its dark and dangerous power, or of the important role the Ring played in determining the safety or destruction of the Free Peoples. A solemn mood descended upon the group at the wizard's words, and noted his warning that this information be kept absolutely secret.

"What must be done then?" asked Thoronthalion, troubled by these developments.

"That is what I have come to discuss with your father and Mithrandir," Elrond answered, looking at the two immortal companions who had been with him thousands of years. "The time may come when we will have to face the Dark Lord again in battle, my friends." He thought bitterly about the huge battle they had waged against Sauron and his forces at the end of the Second Age, when many, many elves and men had died.

"But if the Ring has indeed been found, perhaps the time has come for a different kind of battle," said Gandalf softly. "We have seen that the physical might of Sauron is something to be reckoned with. Perhaps we have to wage a war that will not be in the open, old friend; perhaps we shall have to move in stealth and secrecy and fight him in a way he will not anticipate."

The wizard would say no more, claiming that he would need time first to confirm the whereabouts of the Ring before he could suggest the next move.

"But whatever happens, you, Aragorn, will have to play a very significant part in it," Gandalf said, looking with sympathy at the Ranger. "The world of Men can no longer keep out of this coming war; for Elves are leaving Middle-earth, and the time of Men has come nigh. Like it or not, heir of Isildur, you will have to lead Men against Sauron – or become his slaves."

Legolas' heart fell as he saw the lines of grim worry and reluctance on the face of the man he loved.

"You are the only one with the power to fight the Dark Lord, son of Arathorn, and to unite Men against him," Elrond added in a tone that held both gentleness and conviction. "This has been your destiny since you were born."

"And it is a power I do not ask for or wish!" Aragorn stated bitterly. "Have I not done enough in the past decades? I have fought in secret as a Ranger, and openly in the armies of Gondor and Rohan. What good has it done?"

"But as I have said, this coming war will not be won through strength of arms," Gandalf insisted. "If indeed the Ring lies where I think it does, you shall have to lead in a different way – a way that I shall not speak of yet till I can make certain the need for it, for it will be dangerous."

"Then trouble me not with it yet, I beg you!" said Aragorn, rising from his seat. "And even if the time should come when you have a plan, I promise nothing! Perhaps I am not the only Man who can do this, perhaps it is not the heir of Isildur who is needed. My life is mortal, and I only wish to rest and spend time with Legolas while I can!"

As Aragorn walked swiftly out of the room, hurting and in distress, no one attempted to stop him, for all – in their elven wisdom – understood the man's reluctance to bear the load he had inherited.

"Were his destiny a different one!" Legolas lamented, his heart aching for the man.

"But it is not," said Elrond. "It is deeply unfortunate for him; yet there it is: in his hands lie glory and victory, or failure and a dark, dark future for Arda! He has little choice."

"Still, it is a choice he does not have to make at this very instant," said Thoronthalion in sympathy, placing a comforting arm on his youngest brother's shoulder.

"But he will have to act as soon as I can confirm that the Ring is where I think it is," said Gandalf.

"Then allow him this brief period of respite," Thranduil chimed in. "The time will come soon enough when Isildur's heir will have to face his responsibility."

No one could dispute the reason in Thranduil's words, and Aragorn was spared from further talk of the Ring and his coming task for the moment.

And so the man relished his days of peace with Legolas, wishing that this precious time of contentment would last forever.

Each morning, he would wake and look forward to seeing the face he loved so well, the face he had dreamed of for six decades though he denied it to everyone, sometimes even to himself. The first smile Legolas graced him with each morning brightened his world like the rising of the sun, and he would be speechless at its beauty. He could not get enough of the prince's laughter, or the rides they took in the woods, or the slow walks under the trees that seemed to sense their shared joy. Nor did he tire of the stories they would exchange for hours on end, for they had sixty years of tales to tell each other. Their quiet hours spent in Legolas' tree at the lake were filled with peaceful contemplation, or gentle kisses, or sweet songs.

Then each blissful day ended with a beautiful night. Ahhhh… their nights… Aragorn always felt as if he and Legolas were in another world each as they lay in each other's arms, loving, feeling, and merely holding each other. He wondered that such a gentle elf could send him to the ends of the Earth and beyond with his touches and kisses, and render him as weak as a newborn kitten with each peak of desire.

Time and again, he and Legolas would drive each other to heights so great that they both ached to fulfill their desires with the ultimate joining of bodies, but always, the man would hold back, respecting a boundary that they could not yet cross. He bore in mind the promise he had made to an older brother, and did not wish to violate the body of the person he treasured most in his harsh world. Even if the elf was ready to yield himself, the man would hold the elf tightly against him, and seek their release with their hands and mouths instead, and slow their breathing till both lovers could overcome yet another temptation to join as one.

Yet it became harder and harder to resist the call of their bodies and their desires, and it was only through the steeliest of wills that Aragorn would stop himself from breaching the most private part of his beloved's body.

It was on such a night that Aragorn was sorely tempted yet again. He was on top of Legolas, languidly tasting every part of the sweet elven mouth with his tongue while his hands were roaming tantalizingly over the smooth, creamy skin of the elf's thighs below. Legolas dug his fingers into the man's broad shoulders, moaning softly as their painfully swollen arousals rubbed together, begging release and pleasure.

Aragorn's hands moved underneath the elf, cupping the round, shapely globes they found there, and the elf, in response, quickly lifted his long legs to wrap them around the man's waist.

"Aaah, Estel, Estel!" Legolas uttered huskily into the kiss. "I want you so much!"

Driven close to madness by the same flame of desire within him, Aragorn's fingers stroked the elf's inner thighs feverishly before reaching between them to close around the tender sacs. Then before he could stop himself, he was fingering the entrance to his beloved's secret place, guiding his desperate shaft of desire towards it, seeking to slam himself in and take both of them to new heights they had not yet visited.

It was only at the last instance before he entered the elf that he again remembered Legolas' honor and his promise to Thoronthalion, and with a growl, he quickly shifted so that he and the elf could find release for their aching bodies with their hands.

Later, as he lay holding a sleeping Legolas in his arms, Aragorn studied in silence the ever youthful face before him, with its flushed cheeks and soft lips, and the man grew aware of the passing of years and of how long he had been alone. Then his eyes traveled down to the milky white chest, on which lay at the end of a chain the green stone that the elf had taken to wearing in the past weeks. Aragorn picked it up gently, his thoughts dwelling on the other half of the stone that Arwen had turned over to Legolas many years ago.

The man smiled. That other half belonged to him, and he recalled how Legolas had shown it to him shortly after their reunion, meaning to hand it over to its rightful owner. But Aragorn had placed it back in the elven palm and closed the slender fingers around it.

"Keep it safe for me, _melleth_, as you've done so all this while," he had told Legolas. "I am a man of the Wilds, unused to wearing and caring for such precious trinkets, and I may lose it."

And so the elf prince had returned it to the velvet pouch in which it had lain for the past decades.

Fingering Legolas' half of the stone now, the man thought about what Legolas' mother had said: if it could be believed, it meant that Legolas was indeed the soul mate that would make him complete.

Smiling, the man came to a decision. He studied the beautiful elven face a little longer, then bent down and placed a feather-light kiss on the soft lips before closing his own eyes in peaceful slumber.

At breakfast the next morning, Aragorn sat at his usual seat beside Legolas, strangely quiet despite the cheerful conversation between the princes and Arwen. Gandalf, who had stayed on with Aragorn, was engaged in pleasant discussion with Thranduil as well, but the man joined neither thread of talk, playing with his fork instead.

"Are you feeling well, Aragorn?" asked Legolas suddenly, fixing blue eyes on the man's face. "You seem a little out of sorts."

The Ranger stopped moving his fork around on his plate and returned the elf's affectionate gaze. "I am quite well, Legolas," he replied, though his tone did not carry the confidence of the words. "I… uh… I… I…" he stammered nervously.

Legolas smiled, amused and puzzled. "What is it, Estel?" he pressed. "Is there something on your mind?"

"No!" the man answered quickly, shaking his head, but changed his mind in the next instant. "Well… yes… yes, there is, in fact, something on my mind… yes."

Legolas frowned, immediately concerned. "You are troubled?" he queried, his thoughts turning to the Ring, for that was the only possible matter he could think of that could distress the Ranger.

"Yes, Legolas!" Aragorn replied before shaking his head in exasperation. "No, I mean no!" The Ranger swallowed, took a deep breath and exhaled. "Legolas, I need to say something!" he exclaimed more loudly than he had meant to in his attempt to overcome his nervousness.

Several heads whipped in his direction, drawn by his exchange with the puzzled elf prince. Legolas placed his hands gently over the man's.

"What is it, Estel? What ails you?" he prompted softly. "Does it have to do with the Ring?"

Aragorn stared at the prince, suddenly struck dumb. To everyone's surprise, beads of sweat began to form on his forehead as he clenched his hands into fists. Then, to their further surprise, he began to mumble, and only the keen hearing of the elves and wizard made it possible for them to hear snatches of what the man was saying:

"…fought orcs and robbers and wargs… not as hard as this… why should one elf frighten me so…"

Bewildered looks appeared on all the faces around him, while creases formed on the foreheads of two or three. What was Aragorn talking about, they wondered?

"Aragorn, did you fall? Has a blow on your head knocked all sense out of you?" Gandalf asked from the head of the table where he, Lord Elrond and King Thranduil were staring at Aragorn. "What is going on?"

"…do it now!" the Ranger mumbled on, clearly speaking to himself. "Do it before you lose your nerve!"

Aragorn continued to surprise everyone by rising abruptly from his seat. Closing his eyes tightly, he took another deep breath and released it. Then, with his lips set in a firm line, he walked over to the regal figure sitting beside the wizard and Lord Elrond, and bowed.

"My lord Thranduil…" he began in a squeaky voice, horrifying himself and amusing his audience. Quickly, he straightened his posture and cleared his throat. "M-my lord," he started again, even more nervous than before. "I-I have s-something to ask from you. I have th-thought about this long and hard and I believe that it is time and not to hold back, and I think it would please Legolas as well, so I'd like you to consider – I mean, I humbly ask you –"

"Hold your horses, Aragorn!" Thranduil said, raising his hand. "You are tripping all over yourself! What exactly – ?"

"Please, my lord, allow me to finish while I still have the courage to do it!" Aragorn pleaded, sweating even more profusely. "What I mean to say is… I think it is not wrong for me to ask this now, that is, if… if you would permit me… umm… I'd like to… umm.. if I may be so bold… oh, Valar!" the man hissed before he took another breath and blurted out the remainder of his speech. "My lord, I love your son with all my heart. Legolas is my world and my life and has been since I was a child. There is no one I love more in this world. Would you please allow me to take him as my mate, to wed with him?"

The silence that followed seemed very, very loud and harsh to both the speaker and the witnesses in the room, as Aragorn and Thranduil locked eyes. Rivulets of sweat ran down Aragorn's rapidly blanching face, while the King's was almost expressionless.

"You wish to take my son as your mate?" Thranduil asked at last in an even tone, his face still unsmiling. Gandalf and Elrond wore a similar expression, though if one looked closely enough, one would see amusement dancing in the aged eyes.

"Aye, my lord," answered Aragorn more boldly, now that he had voiced what he felt to be the hardest part of his request. "I know… I know I have little more to offer him, but… having been in the wilds for sixty years, and having lived in more lands than I care to remember, surrounded by both power and poverty, hard stone and green forest, I have learned that in the end… in the end, the love we hold in our hearts is all that matters. It is the one true thing that no one else can give or take away; it is what sustains us; it is the one true wealth that stays even if walls crumble and kingdoms fall and death claims us."

Aragorn turned to Legolas then, his eyes holding the brilliant blue ones of the elf prince that were now sparkling with tears.

"The love of Legolas, his goodness, his beauty… those are all I need to make me the richest and happiest I could be," the man continued. "And I hope that my own love and devotion – even if painfully modest – will be enough to win his heart."

As a captive audience digested the words of the Ranger, appreciating the sincerity of his declaration, Aragorn turned back to Thranduil and Elrond at the head of the table, no longer nervous or hesitant.

"With no offence meant to you, Lord Elrond," the man said, throwing the elf lord a respectful glance, "I need not trouble you for permission for this matter. But Legolas does have a family from whom I would like to obtain consent. And so, my lord Thranduil, I humbly ask for yours to wed your son. I wish to be bound with him – rightfully and acceptably in the eyes of your kin," the man finished.

The whole room fell silent again, awaiting a response from the King, who still retained his inscrutable expression.

"Is this what you truly wish, Aragorn?" the elf king asked eventually, his hands lightly fisted despite the evenness of his tone.

"More than anything – _anything _– in my life, and in this world," the man answered immediately, his voice ringing with honesty. "Nothing else means or matters more to me, my lord."

Thranduil, Elrond and Gandalf exchanged a quick look that only the three immortals understood, but which everyone else missed, for their eyes were on Aragorn as he turned back to Legolas.

"That is, if…" the man said, gazing with pure love upon the elf prince, "if Legolas agrees to take this simple man to be his mate."

Legolas gasped lightly, and even through his tears, he beamed Aragorn a radiant smile. Casting a quick glance at his brothers and sister-in-law, he saw their obvious delight and expectant faces – all of them holding their breaths to hear his answer. The golden-haired elf turned back to Aragorn, laughing through his tears as he opened his mouth to voice the answer that all knew was forthcoming.

"Nay, wait!" Thranduil called out before Legolas could reply. "Hold!"

Aragorn swung around to face the king again.

"Hold!" Thranduil repeated. "This bears discussion between me and my son."

Several pairs of eyes widened in astonishment at the hesitation in the elf king's voice, but the disappointment was keen in Aragorn and Legolas, whose faces fell faster than a ton of bricks.

--xx00xx--

Aragorn sat sullen and grim-faced by the window in the dining room after Legolas had left with his father and his brothers for the King's private chambers.

"Come, Estel, do not grieve," said Arwen to the man, placing her hands gently on his shoulders. "Things will be well, I believe."

"He will say no," Aragorn said sadly.

"Why would he?" Arwen countered gently. "After all, it is you who has the other half of Legolas' green stone."

"But the look on his face!" Aragorn argued. "He did not look happy. He will not allow me to bind with Legolas, and I will lose him, Arwen! He is my life –"

"Come now, Estel!" the elleth interrupted cheerfully. "We cannot tell what is on the King's mind – you may yet receive a favorable reply! He loves Legolas, and if Legolas is happy with you, I don't see why he would object. Such father-and-son discussions are not uncommon in deciding an important development in a son's life – and you did spring a surprise upon the King!"

Aragorn sighed. "Aye, I did," he admitted. "I'd thought about it the whole night, and I… well, I think it's time."

"Thalion will support Legolas, I'm sure," Arwen said reassuringly. "Let us wait before we jump to conclusions, Estel. They will emerge from those chambers soon, and you may receive very, very uplifting news!"

But Legolas and the elves around him were not about to emerge from the King's chambers just yet, for, unknown to Aragorn and Arwen, Elrond and Gandalf had also joined the King and his sons in the chambers, and they were participants in the important discussion taking place inside, a discussion that was proving to be very troubling for Legolas.

"You are asking me to set _that_ condition for the marriage?" the youngest prince almost screamed, acting against his gentle nature.

"Yes, _ion nin_," his father answered, sighing sadly. "I'm afraid I must."

"That will devastate the man, Adar," Alkarmenel noted. "It seems so… so harsh."

"How can you ask it of me – any of you?" Legolas demanded, looking at the three older immortals. "I love him, and you are asking me to demand that he be King of Gondor before he can bind with me! This is madness!"

"I know you wish to wed him at this moment if you could, _ion nin_," Thranduil said, trying to placate his son. "But listen to Lord Elrond and Gandalf – listen to their reasoning."

"What reason is there?" Legolas protested. "I care not for riches or titles!"

"It is _not_ about wealth, _tithen pen_, and you should know that," said Elrond gently. "Our intentions are driven not by love of riches, but by concern for the Free Peoples of Middle-earth. By asking him to be King of Gondor, you are making Aragorn fight for his realm. Middle-earth needs him – and you are the only one who can make him do that."

"You've heard how reluctant he is to lead Men against Sauron, Legolas - he said so himself barely three weeks ago," Gandalf said. "When I can be certain about the discovery of the Ring, Sauron will be bending all his will, employing all his forces to find it and reclaim it – but we cannot let that happen! We must conceive a plan to keep the Ring from him, and Aragorn must participate. It is written in the prophecies – but he must rise and act before those prophecies can come true."

"Otherwise, Middle-earth has no hope, Legolas," said Thranduil. "_He_ is their hope. And you are his: the only goal he has. You heard him – he would do anything to have you in his life."

"Then _you_ enforce the requirement, but I must say yes to his question!" Legolas said angrily.

"Legolas... if you say yes, it will not matter to him what _we_ say," Gandalf reasoned patiently. "Even if he has asked your father for his consent, he is likely to set aside that concern if he knows that you are willing to bind with him. He will forget about the challenge he has to face as the leader of Men! He will be committed to it only if he thinks that both your father and you wish for him to claim the rule of Gondor."

A cry of grief escaped Legolas' throat. "I cannot put him through this!" he said brokenly.

Thranduil held his youngest son against him, sharing his sorrow. "Oh, Legolas, I would take this pain from you if I could!" said the King. "I would give you and him my blessing this instant, _ion nin_, for I love you, and I have no ill thoughts about him. But... once I say 'yes' and he is settled, even more so would he refuse to take up the call to save Middle-earth from Sauron." The elven king paused to let his words sink in before he continued. "As long as you are still out of his reach, Legolas, and he has to fulfill a requirement to have you for his own, it will be his incentive – apparently the only incentive that exists at the moment – for him to fight for Gondor and claim his throne."

"He does not see the importance of his fight now," Gandalf said. "But when it is over, and he has defeated Sauron, which we hope shall be achieved, you and he will be so glad that this step was taken."

Legolas shook his head vehemently and hid his face in his hands, trembling in frustration and rage.

Elrond walked over to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Legolas," he said gently. "Understand that we ask you this not for our sakes. We - the Elves, the Istari... we could leave Middle-earth on the morrow should we choose to; we could sail to Valinor before Sauron wields his cruelty and wreaks destruction - but Men cannot. Nor can the Halflings or and other beings in Middle-earth you have not even met. We must bear their fate in mind - even that of the Dwarves, though we feel no fondness for them. They will suffer at the hands of the Dark Lord - unless one who is destined to deliver from Sauron steps up and fulfills that destiny. Aragorn needs to do this, and he will only do it for a strong enough incentive - _you, _and you alone." The elf lord tightened his grasp on the young shoulder. "For the sake of all the races of Free People, Legolas, you must help us!"

Silence fell over the group for some time as Legolas pondered on their pleas and wept in frustration. He thought about Aragorn and how distressed he must be now, awaiting a decision that would change his life. At length, the young prince spoke again.

"Is there – is there no one else who can do this?" he asked tearfully.

"No other," Elrond answered sympathetically, and Gandalf nodded.

Then Thalion, feeling utterly sorry for his youngest brother, spoke softly to him.

"Perhaps you should also consider this, little one," the older prince said gently. "As long as Aragorn does not take the throne, Sauron will never rest or leave him alone. Aragorn will continue to be hunted his whole life, for the Dark Lord cannot allow the heir of Isildur to live. Would you wish that for the one you love?"

Legolas was stunned into silence at that reminder, as were the others in the room at Thalion's insight, but the eldest prince had not finished.

"Remember, too, what our _naneth_ left you, Legolas: a green stone with a message," Thalion whispered. "If you trust the words of our mother, they are an assurance that Aragorn will at some point, in some way, be the one who completes your life, whether it is at this moment, or a year from now, or ten years later. He will be with you."

It was at those words from a brother who understood him better than anyone else that Legolas finally, though unwillingly, agreed to the condition that his father would set upon Aragorn. With a heavy heart, he followed the elder elves out of his father's chambers to meet again with the Ranger, fearing what the demand would do to the man's spirit.

Indeed, for Aragorn, whose only wish was to lead a peaceful life with the elf he worshipped, the requirement from Thranduil – though gently delivered – was like a death blow to his hopes and dreams.

"Claim the throne of Gondor, son of Arathorn, and I shall bless your union with Legolas," said Thranduil as a pale and astonished Aragorn faced him and his sons. "If you are to wed my youngest prince, you must be no less than the King of Gondor and the northern realm."

Unaware of how much the elf king loathed what he was doing, Aragorn could only stare mutely at the royal figure for a few moments, his blue-grey eyes hard with disbelief. "You set me yet another obstacle, my lord," he uttered with suppressed anger. "And a high price to pay."

"It was not I who set other obstacles before this, Aragorn, but do you not love my son enough to pay the price?" asked the elf king evenly, silently regretting having to ask the hateful question.

"Of course I do!" said Aragorn firmly before turning to Legolas. "But first tell me, Legolas, is this what _you_ wish as well: for me to be King of Gondor before you will consent to be my mate?"

Legolas dug his fingers into his balled palms and looked away from the searching gaze of the man he loved. He had to say something that would coerce the man into taking up the challenge to regain Gondor, but he did not want to lie. Quickly choosing his words, he swallowed hard and forced himself to utter the words he never wanted to. "Because of who we are, Aragorn... it is necessary," he said through gritted teeth, fighting the tears that threatened to fall.

A strange light came into Aragorn's eyes at the prince's answer, and a long moment passed before he spoke again. "You are willing to take this risk then, Legolas," he said almost coldly. "You do realize that taking the throne of Gondor is no light matter. I cannot merely walk into the Citadel of Minas Tirith and ask for it. Once I reveal my true identity, Sauron will descend upon me and the City for the slaughter – I cannot risk the lives of so many."

"Indeed," Gandalf agreed. "You cannot take back the realm of your fathers so easily or callously. It has to be done after you incapacitate the Dark Lord and render him no longer capable of harm upon you and your people. Only then can you truly be King and rule in peace."

"It may be a long and bitter fight," said Aragorn with a heavy heart. "And I may fail."

"You will not fail, Estel!" Legolas declared with passion. He could not stop himself from walking forward to take the man's hands and hold them fondly. "You will be strong enough, and committed enough, because you know I love you! And I will wait for you, Aragorn; I will wait till you have succeeded. There will be no one else in my heart but you!"

The grim hardness did not leave Aragorn's face or eyes as he spoke in response. "Waiting is a strange thing, is it not?" he asked cryptically. "I don't know how long this… this affair with Sauron will take. But I waited sixty years before I could find myself and come to realize I could not live without you, Legolas… so I suppose I can wait a little longer." The man ran a finger sadly along Legolas' jawline. "A lot will happen in between, but if the struggle can help me learn and bring me to the one I should bind with, it will be worth it."

Turning to Thranduil, the heir of Isildur threw him a smile that did not reach his eyes. "Your terms and conditions demand much, my lord, but I will take up the challenge to reclaim the throne of Gondor," the Ranger said, lifting his chin determinedly. "I will do it when the time is ripe… and I will think about marriage only after."

Two elf lords and an old wizard breathed silent sighs of relief at Aragorn's concession, while a young elf prince bled inside. But on the face of the heir of Isildur, there was only determination, and the grimness that had left it since he first came to Mirkwood now returned. The unkempt, dour look that had characterized the Ranger for many of the previous decades became once more the mark of Aragorn the Ranger when he bade farewell to a sorrowing Legolas three days later and he rode off to reunite with his kin in the wilds.

Several months later, Gandalf found the One Ring in the possession of a Hobbit of the Shire. Less than a year after that, Gandalf and Lord Elrond formed the Fellowship of the Ring and initiated the Quest to destroy the key to the Dark Lord's power. And Legolas – sent by circumstance to report to Lord Elrond the escape of Gollum from the watchful guard of Mirkwood – offered to be part of the Fellowship, so that he would be with Aragorn on the man's hard, painful and bloody struggle to reclaim the throne of Gondor.

* * *

_**Note**: Although I refer to the Quest in this story, I will not be writing much detail about it – except for when it pertains to the plot of this story – as I don't wish to repeat what can be found in the books and movies._

_Additional note: This part of the plot is consistent with the books - Aragorn was asked to regain his throne before Elrond would let him wed Arwen, for the same reason: they had to give some incentive to fight for Gondor. Here, of course, he is asked to do it for Legolas._

_Thank you ALL who sent in reviews, including those who did not leave email adds for me to respond to. _:)


	16. Many Challenges

_**NOTE: **__**I have skipped many details of the Quest because everyone who is reading this would know it well, and I don't want to repeat what everyone already knows. **_

* * *

**Chapter 16****: Many Challenges**

The Quest of the Ring was a long, hard struggle for the nine members of the Fellowship.

A strange lot they were: an old wizard, a scruffy Ranger, a beautiful elf, a gruff dwarf named Gimli, an obstinate man from Gondor called Boromir, and four hobbits who had never been outside their world of the Shire, among whom was Frodo, the bearer of the One Ring that needed to be thrown into the fires of Mount Doom.

Despite their differences, the Fellowship had grown close during their journey, all bound by the same commitment to see the Ring and Sauron destroyed. Though they were lightly armed and were too few in number, they drew upon their great courage and commitment to face whatever would try to stop them.

Yet none of them could have foreseen the ordeals and difficulties they had to endure and overcome: they went through fire and water and snow, with hunger and cold as their constant companions. They had little sleep, and what rest they had was on hard, unyielding ground. Fear, too, was ever in their hearts, for the evil One Ring was with them, and though Frodo kept it hidden, it had a power that called to those who worshipped it. Thus, many and varied foes surrounded the Fellowship, hounded it and attacked it.

As hard as the Quest was for Frodo and the others, it was worse for Aragorn in many ways. He had started on the Quest for the sake of fulfilling what King Thranduil had asked of him, but after all the trials they faced along the way, he could no longer ignore or forget what the outcome of it would mean to the people of Middle-earth if he should fail. Free people would become Sauron's slaves, men and dwarves and hobbits would lose their lands, and the forests would die under the Black rule. Each orc he stabbed, each foe he slew, he did with grim determination, pouring all his energy into making sure nothing stood in the way of their destroying the Ring and his reclaiming Gondor. He had to protect the Ring bearer, he had to look after the other little folk: Sam, Merry and Pippin, and he had to keep the Ring safe from greedy hands. Too much was at stake, too much hung in the balance, and though he never spoke of it, Legolas knew the tremendous load on his mind and heart.

Hard enough was the burden he had to bear as the heir of Isildur, but constantly underlying his worry for everyone who depended on his leading them to victory was also his thought about the condition he had to fulfill in order to wed Legolas. He had never spoken of it since leaving Mirkwood – not once, and not to any person. Only Gandalf and Legolas, who were party to this knowledge, understood how heavily the thought must have weighed upon him.

Worriedly, the elf watched Aragorn struggle with his emotions during the journey. There were times when the man laughed with his companions and engaged in play with the Hobbits despite his weariness. On those days, his face lit up with secret smiles which would melt the elf's heart. The man and elf had decided from the start that they would keep their relationship secret from the others, for the Quest should be their main focus, but on the days when Aragorn's spirits were high, he sometimes drew Legolas aside, and they stole quick embraces and gained strength from the other's presence to see them through the hard times.

But eventually, after attacks by wargs and orcs, and many moments when death was all but upon the members of the Fellowship, it came to be that grimness marked Aragorn's features more often than mirth. Eventually, he spoke less and less, and when he did, it was never in jest; it was always – and only – about the next step, the next danger to anticipate, the next foe to overcome. Eventually, hardly a smile could be coaxed out of the man, not even by the elf he loved.

Day by day, Legolas could only watch and weep inside for Aragorn. This had once been the little child he had picked up and played with and looked after. This was the boy who had already gone through the death of his parents before he could even know of their lineage, and had lived the lonely life of a Ranger. This had been his Estel, still his Estel. But now… more than six decades later… the boy had become a hardened man, a dour Ranger, a serious-minded king-to-be.

The elf now felt almost powerless to help Aragorn to any great degree, for the man's life had grown beyond the borders of his elven guardianship. The decisions Aragorn now made were of greater magnitude than the elf could ever imagine. The man was often clearly troubled by many choices, and he often pondered upon them in silence.

"Aragorn, will you not unburden your heart to me?" Legolas had asked softly once during their forty-day trek across the Misty Mountains. They had fallen to the rear of the company, allowing Gandalf and Boromir to lead the way. "I know you worry about this route we are following, and that you and Gandalf have argued about whether to go through the Gap of Rohan or some other –"

"I don't wish to speak of it," the man answered stubbornly, his expressionless eyes looking straight ahead, his unsmiling lips barely moving. His dark hair hung limply about his careworn face, and his clothes were stained from their travels, making Legolas wish he could wash off both the grime and the troubles from the man he loved.

For a while, the elf deferred to Aragorn's wish not to speak, and all he could hear was the crunch of stones beneath Aragorn's boots, the small voices of the Hobbits some distance in front, and the occasional reply Gandalf or Gimli gave the little folk. Legolas understood the demands of the Quest and their need to maintain their focus on the task at hand; he accepted the role Aragorn had to play and the character the man had to maintain as one of the leaders of the Fellowship.

But Legolas missed the closeness he and Aragorn had shared, missed the touch and feel of his beloved Estel. With so many others around them, they had decided to keep their relationship discreet, and they had not even kissed since they left Rivendell. But the elf wished they could at least have the conversations that had once come so easily to them. He was saddened by what he sometimes felt to be a rift between them, and at this moment, the elf decided to make another attempt to bridge that gap.

"You must know that the more you keep things to yourself, the more they will weigh you down, Aragorn," he began again. "Come, my love, speak with me –"

"No!" the Ranger replied more firmly than before, his brows narrowing. "The troubles will come soon enough, and I don't wish to talk about them before I need to confront them. I need no reminder."

The elf was slightly taken aback by the gruffness of the answer, and he could not help the twinge of hurt he felt. Aragorn continued to look straight ahead, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword as it often did. Biting on his lower lip, Legolas maintained his composure.

"I merely wished to help, Estel," he said quietly. "I know how hard this Quest must be for you –"

"No one can know what this Quest means to me, or asks of me!" Aragorn hissed, his feet crunching to a halt. His blue-grey eyes were hard as they bored into Legolas', yet there was a flash of something vulnerable in them, something painful. "I never wanted this task, or the throne at the end of it, but I know I have to fulfill what everyone needs, I know what lies in the balance – and I cannot afford to be weak or to falter."

Legolas' heart ached for the man. "Speaking about it is not weakness, Aragorn," Legolas said gently. "Everyone needs to release some of the weight he carries. I wish to listen –"

"It is not your burden to bear," Aragorn replied, almost angrily. "It is no one's but mine."

The elf pursed his lips, struggling within himself a moment before he threw out the question that had pricked at him for many weeks, though it hurt him to voice it. "If you will not speak with me of your deepest worries, Aragorn, and I know you have many – then tell me: do you wish me to keep a distance from you?" he asked, his voice shivering. "You seem to be growing more and more detached from me. Is it that… that your feelings for me have changed?"

For a long moment, Aragorn stared at the elf in shock as if he had been struck by lightning. His fists tightened by his side, and the wind blew strands of hair across his stone-like face as he gazed unblinkingly at the elf. Then, to Legolas' surprise, he turned and pointed to the snow-capped mountain peaks looming before them.

"Do you see these mountains, Legolas?" he asked, whipping around again to face the elf. "Till they fall to nothingness, and the ground beneath us turns to naught but dust – even then shall I love you. Till the end of my life and beyond, I will love you. It is because I love you that I even agreed to undertake this Quest. So I pray: never, ever ask me that question again."

Trembling, Legolas beheld the passion and the agony in Aragorn's eyes, and he knew the sincerity of the words. Tentatively, he reached out to touch the man he loved, not caring any more that the rest of the Company had stopped at their raised voices and were likely wondering about what was happening.

"Oh, Aragorn…" Legolas breathed, his eyes filling with tears. But at that moment, a shout came from Gandalf.

"Hide, hide!" the wizard cried, pushing Frodo towards some rocks. "_Crebain_ are approaching! Spies of Saruman! Hide!"

And then the Fellowship was running for the cover of rocks and the few prickly bushes that grew on the hard slopes of the mountain. Driven by concern for the Hobbits, Aragorn and Legolas grasped Merry and Pippin and pushed them into small shadowed crevices where they fit easily, before diving beneath a larger outcrop of rock themselves, scuttling as close to the rock face as possible so that the ledge would hide them. They could only trust that the rest of the Company had managed to find cover as well, and that Saruman would not know of their presence here on the mountain. Breathing nervously, they waited in silence while the birds circled overhead, unsure about whether they had been seen by the airborne spies.

Crouching in the shadows, Legolas turned his eyes from the scene outside to look at Aragorn, whose face was almost touching his. Without further thought, he turned the man's face towards him, and saw – beyond the gristly beard and lines of worry – the tenderness of a little boy and the determination of a man. Then, despite the danger that hovered overhead, Legolas captured the man's sullen lips with his own eager ones, all the passion and love he had bottled up for the last few weeks pouring into that warm, desperate kiss.

Aragorn pulled back in surprise at first, but then the man moaned as he gave in to his own suppressed desires and added his own fervor to the kiss. Calloused hands reached around the slim elven neck and pulled it closer. "Legolas…" he murmured, devouring the elf's lips so hungrily that Legolas had no chance to respond.

The elf clutched Aragorn's hair, running his long fingers through the dark locks he was so fond of, letting Aragorn feel his love and affection. Moaning into the kiss, he tasted the man again and again, stealing every moment he could before the others came looking for them. The narrow space they were hiding in allowed no more than this contact, but Legolas was grateful for it.

"Aragorn!" came the searching cry all too soon. "Legolas! Where are you? The spies are gone. Come out!"

Reluctantly, the lovers broke apart, breathing heavily and looking into each other's eyes, conveying a common sentiment: their stolen moment – already too long in coming – had been taken away too soon.

"I love you, Aragorn," Legolas whispered, grasping the clefted chin firmly. "Remember that."

Aragorn sighed and hung his head, and Legolas sensed a strange conflict within him. "You make it difficult for me, Legolas," the man said, mystifying the elf further.

Legolas furrowed his brows. "What do you mean?" he asked. "Difficult?"

The man looked up then, and a curious light was in his eyes. He did not answer, but when the sound of small feet came running towards their hiding place, and the voice of a Hobbit called out to them, Legolas smiled.

"I see," said the elf. "I know you need to focus on the Quest, Aragorn. You need not fear – such distraction will not be frequent."

Aragorn seemed about to say something in return, but a head of curly hair came into view at that moment, and his expression turned somber again, ending the conversation. Then their trek resumed, and they were once more members of a Fellowship, with little time for talk of other matters.

Fearing that their presence had been marked by the _crebain_, Gandalf made the decision to continue their journey through the dark and dreadful Mines of Moria. Yet, despite the horrible surroundings, Aragorn seemed a little happier for a while, and his step was a little lighter, as if he had found some relief.

"Watch your step, Pippin," the Ranger warned as the hobbit stumbled in the dark. "We don't want you falling and hurting the poor old ground now, do we?" A hint of a smile crossed the man's face, which the hobbit did not miss.

"Well, so you can smile after all – I'd almost forgotten!" Pippin said. "But how can you find any humor here, Strider?" he grumbled, rubbing his knee. "What can you find to smile about?"

Another small smile came from Aragorn before he said quietly: "A light in dark places, Pippin, that's what I see." And Aragorn threw a quick glance in the direction of Legolas who was three persons behind them.

The hobbit missed the swift look, but the sharp-eyed Gandalf did not, and the wizard felt glad. The aged Istari smiled to himself. _It was a good plan, _he told himself. Aragorn had agreed to undertake this Quest because of Legolas, and now that it was underway, Legolas would bring relief to the weary Ranger along the trying journey.

But no one foresaw what would happen next. It was not long after that the same wizard fell into the deep, dark domain of his foe in the Mines, dealing the Fellowship its greatest blow. Of all the difficult moments Aragorn faced on the Quest, the man's heart was heaviest after that tragic event. Gandalf had been their leader, their advisor – and his falling into the dark, dark abyss with the Balrog shook the confidence and strength of the Company, and most of all that of Aragorn, for now the leadership of the Fellowship fell entirely upon him.

Legolas himself was stunned beyond speech, for the young elf had never thought he would be witness to the fall of one so mighty as Gandalf. But after the Fellowship had wept their grief away, the elf's concern turned only to one person: Aragorn. How would the man fare now? he worried. How would he cope with such a great loss to the Company?

Whatever the depth of Aragorn's despair, he kept it hidden and poured all his strength into pushing the remaining members of the Fellowship onwards till they reached Lothlorien. Only there, within the safe borders of that elven realm, could the Ranger dare to feel some ease, and to find some healing for the hurts and fears he bore, and Legolas was glad for it. One night, he sat beneath a tall tree in the shadows of evening, allowing Legolas to hold him in comfort, and there he finally let down his guard and let his tears flow freely.

"You are my only comfort in these cruel days, Legolas," he whispered hoarsely in the dark shadows beneath a _mallorn_ tree. The Fellowship still knew little of their relationship, and only Gandalf had been party to it. But now the wizard was gone, and the fate of the Fellowship and the future of Gondor lay heavier on the man's shoulders.

"I tried so hard to run from this position of responsibility, and when Gandalf was with us, the task seemed lighter," he said sorrowfully as he rested against the elf's chest. "Yet I see now that this truly is my destiny – to bear the burden of Middle-earth. What if I fail, Legolas? What if the Ring never gets destroyed and all fall to ruin? What if –?"

"You will not fail, Aragorn," the elf said gently, wrapping his arms around the Ranger and resting his chin on the dark head. "You are a strong, wise man, skilled in arms and strategy, and the Fellowship will follow you to whatever end because we trust in you. Middle-earth will find no better leader, my beloved."

Aragorn sighed and shook his head. "I do not feel so confident now, Legolas," he said in despair. "Trouble after trouble finds us, and now Gandalf is taken from us. I do not know if I can hold the Company together…"

"We will follow you, Aragorn," Legolas reassured him again. "You will prevail – and in the end, you will be King!"

At the mention of the word 'king,' Aragorn suddenly stiffened and his expression grew hard. "King," he muttered in an odd tone. "Is that what matters? To be King of Gondor, ruler of a realm? The life of Gandalf - and who knows whose else on this journey… is that the price to be paid for me to take the Crown of Gondor?"

Legolas gasped, not certain how to answer. "Aragorn – why do you speak thus?"

"Well, it is true, is it not? I have to gain the rule of Gondor?"

"Yes," the elf answered hesitantly. "But you know why, surely? It was made clear at Lord Elrond's Council… the Ring – "

"Yes, the Ring, I haven't forgotten," Aragorn answered in a stiff tone, pulling out of Legolas' embrace. His voice dropped to a low whisper, almost as if he were talking to himself. "But it is also what Mirkwood wants, is it not? For me to be King? You all made that clear."

Legolas winced, dismayed that Aragorn had again created a distance between them, however small. He hated the fact that Aragorn had been burdened with that challenge, and he hated that he had not been able to tell the man the truth. A debate arose within the elf's mind as he struggled with a decision: should he do so now?

Legolas cleared his throat and shifted uneasily. "Aragorn," he said uncertainly. "If… if my father had not asked it of you, if he had not set that condition for us to be together… would you be doing this? Would you be here on this Quest?"

The man did not answer immediately but stared off into the distance, as if he were lost in some distant memory. "I told you I never wanted this power or this destiny, Legolas," he replied at last, and it seemed to the elf, a little bitterly. "If you had said it did not matter to you… if you had disagreed with your father… " the man paused again, weighing his answer, "I would have thrown it all to the winds, Legolas, because all I wanted – all I ever wanted – was to be with you! I would have asked you to come with me into the wild lands I have grown used to, if you were willing. We could have lived on our own and found joy, instead of having to face this long, painful struggle – all the fighting and the bloodshed… "

Legolas drew in a quick breath and closed his eyes, holding back his tears. _Oh,__ Aragorn, _he lamented in silence. _I wish it were not so, __but now I see that Adar, Gandalf and Lord Elrond were __right__. Y__ou would not be doing this if you did not think I wished it!_

The elf bit down hard on his lower lip. _I wish I could tell you the truth__, Aragorn, but__ if I did, you might abandon this quest. That cannot happen! Middle-earth __– __and __your people __– __need __you._

"I know that everyone tells me I have to fulfill the prophecy to save Gondor from the dark plans of Sauron," Aragorn continued, as if he were reading Legolas' thoughts. "And yes, I have come to accept it. But… there are times when I wonder… am I truly the one that the prophesies speak of? There are times when I think that there may be someone else out there who may be the heir to Gondor's throne. And you and I should not be embroiled in this – we should be living in peace in the woods somewhere. We would help where we can, in our own little way. If you had but said the word, Legolas – I would have urged you to come away with me!"

Legolas felt his heart constrict as he wept inside. _Adar and Lord Elrond were right __all along, _he admitted again sorrowfully. _Ai, I would have gone with you anywhere you ask__ed__, my __Estel__! But you are the hope of Middle-earth, and I have to keep the truth from you __– till the free peoples are safe once more. _

"Aragorn," the elf said aloud, his voice shaking. "You must not doubt that you are the one – the heir of Isildur – you have to –"

"It is hardly worth thinking about now," Aragorn interrupted, his tone one of resignation. "Since it is what everyone expects it of me… I have little choice, do I? I will do as you ask. We have come this far, and I will hold to my oath, to help Frodo bring the Ring to Mount Doom, to do battle with Sauron if need be. And then… who knows what will happen then…"

"You will not fail, Estel, and our plans will come to fruition, and we will be together then," Legolas said firmly, smiling at the man. "I will be with you every step of the way, and I will watch you claim Gondor."

Aragorn laughed ruefully. "Those are words of hope indeed, Legolas," he said. "But it is a long way still… I cannot yet see its end." The man's expression took on a faraway look. "Many things can happen, many things unforeseen and unplanned… and unwanted," he said quietly. Then he turned to Legolas and looked sadly into the blue eyes he loved so much that it hurt. "I would not hope for too much."

Legolas felt sick thinking about the toll that the Quest – and especially Gandalf's departure – must be taking on Aragorn. The elf half-regretted beginning this conversation. "I say again, Aragorn: I will not leave your side and I will be with you till the very end," he asserted.

"As I said: the end is a long way away," the man said in response, turning away again. "Now, I must think, Legolas, about the best course of action."

The elf nodded and ran a comforting hand over the man's back. "I know you have much to ponder on, Aragorn," he said. "We are in Lothlorien, and this is a good place to think in peace for a while."

The man said nothing but lapsed into a grim silence, deep in thought, and the two of them sat without speaking for some time, till it was time to join their companions once more.

And so the rest of the days passed, and neither man nor elf brought up the subject of Aragorn's choice again. Nor did they discuss what they might look forward to at the end of the Quest. All too soon, when they left Lorien reluctantly, their full attention was forced once more upon the need to survive the attacks of their enemies.

The Fellowship broke when Frodo and Sam felt the need to take the Ring to Mordor on their own, and Merry and Pippin were captured. Another heavy blow came upon the friends when Boromir was killed trying to help the two hobbits, bringing Aragorn further sorrow, for Boromir had been a man of Gondor. But mourning had to be brief, for Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli had to strive to rescue the hobbits from certain torture at the hands of Saruman. But events took an unexpected turn, and the three Hunters found themselves in the Halls of King Theoden in Rohan.

Through it all, Aragorn and Legolas were little more than companions in battle, constantly looking out for their friends and for each other. So tentative was their survival from day to day that the few moments they could steal to be alone, they merely held on to one another, saying nothing that would upset the other.

Legolas often felt distant from Aragorn, but the elf knew that the man had much on his mind, particularly after they had been to the halls of Theoden and Aragorn had to lead an army to aid the Rohirrim in defence of Helm's Deep. There was even less time now to be alone, for Aragorn was often closeted with the companies of Men, and Legolas sorely missed him.

_Patience_, he told himself, _for it __is only in this way that we can get to be together in the end_. He sometimes fingered the two halves of the green stone that he kept in separate pouches, waiting for the day they would be united.

The only bright spot in their lives at that time was the unexpected and most welcome return of Gandalf from what they thought had been certain death. His reappearance to them in the forests of Fangorn had brought new hope to Aragorn, and now the wizard had saved the Rohan army from certain defeat again.

"Words cannot tell how glad I am that you have come back," Legolas said to the wizard after the battle, when they had returned once more to Edoras, and were having a quiet moment outside the Golden Hall. "You truly brought hope unlooked for!"

The wizard mumbled without smiling, as usual, and scanned the distant hills with lazy eyes as he puffed on his pipe. Merry and Pippin were chatting loudly with Gimli some yards away, gloating over how they had witnessed the destruction of Isengard and the defeat of Saruman. Aragorn was the only one of the Company indoors, once more in discussion with Theoden and Eomer.

"How did Aragorn fare in my absence?" asked the wizard.

Legolas thought before he answered. "He is very much aware of his task, and focused on it," said Legolas sadly. "He has little choice, as he said." The elf hung his head and absently drew circles on the grass beneath. "I worry for him, Mithrandir… and I often feel… well, remote from him. But I know he has much on his mind, and he has to finish what we set out to do."

The wizard sighed. "Yes he does, Thranduilion," he said. "And indeed there is no choice if Middle-earth is to be saved. Let us hope Frodo succeeds in destroying the Ring, and that Aragorn will defeat Sauron as we hope." The aged Istari studied the sorrowful look on the young elf and smiled in understanding. "Be patient, Legolas. We march towards an end that we all seek."

Without thinking, Legolas' long fingers had moved to the pouches where the two halves of the green stone lay, and he touched them lightly.

"May that end come soon," he whispered. "I will be patient."

And the elf's thoughts travelled to the dark-haired man inside the Golden Hall, as they did each moment of his waking hours.

* * *

_**To Reviewers**:_

_Thank you very much to all those who reviewed. Unfortunately, the new review reply facility doesn't let me know whether I've responded to a review or not, so I hope I didn't miss anyone. _


	17. Victory and Loss

**Chapter 17****: Victory and Loss**

_Here we are at last, _Legolas thought._ The hour has come that will decide all our fates – all of us whose fate depends upon that of the One Ring. _

The same thought was running through the minds of the remaining members of the Fellowship, and of the armies of Rohan and Gondor that stood before the Black Gates of Mordor. Somewhere beyond those gates, they hoped, were Frodo and Sam, alive and still in possession of the small golden object that would have a larger impact upon Middle-earth than the mightiest mountain or the deepest river. If the Ring was destroyed, the Free Peoples of Middle-earth would remain free, but if Frodo failed and the Ring returned to Sauron, all of Middle-earth would be slaves to his evil, and his rule would last years beyond count, for he would be so powerful that none would be able to withstand him.

Standing tense and alert before the formidable Gates, Legolas could only pray that Frodo and Sam would ultimately cast the Ring into the fires of Mount Doom. That end was what it was all for – their risking their very necks at the front door of Sauron's accursed realm: to draw Sauron's attention to themselves so that the two hobbits could carry out their part of the task.

Beside the elf stood Aragorn, looking as grave and resolute as the Kings of old, and on his features were written both weariness and a hint of grief. Just minutes ago, the group had been shown Frodo's mithril vest by the Mouth of Sauron, who tried to convince them that Frodo was dead. But Gandalf had cursed the minion of Sauron, and cast doubt upon his words, and Aragorn had joined him in voicing the hope, however small, that Frodo was not yet dead. Then the heir to Gondor's throne had rallied the troops to make their last stand, and so they did, obeying the strength and will of their King.

And here they stood now, waiting for the storm to break. In those tense moments, when no one knew if he would leave this battle ground alive, Aragorn turned to study the elf beside him. His blue-grey eyes were filled with sadness, and his voice caught in his throat as he whispered the elf's name.

"I wish this could be ending differently, Legolas," he said, reaching out to touch the beautiful face gently, no longer caring if anyone saw them; if they were to perish here today, it would matter no longer.

Legolas' eyes filled with tears, but he smiled at the man he loved with all his heart. "End, Estel? We do not yet know how this will end," he whispered back. He caught hold of the calloused fingers and gripped them tightly. "But do not lose hope, beloved. You, of all people, should know that."

A grievous look appeared on Aragorn's face as he smiled back without joy. "However it ends, Legolas, I hope you never forget how I have lived my whole life loving you, and what I have been willing to do for you, to be worthy of your love."

Legolas shook his head vehemently, struggling for words to tell the man how he never had to prove anything to him. "Aragorn, my Aragorn…" he began. But at that moment, the Black Gates opened again and all their attention was drawn to the ominous sound.

Sauron's troops appeared at the opening and began pouring out for war. And so began the last great battle for the freedom of Middle-earth.

--xx00xx--

Legolas could not believe it.

The roar of victory in his ears told him again and again that it was true, but it was still hard for him to grasp.

They had won.

The long-awaited, little-hoped-for moment had come, when – against all odds and with a deafening roar like the end of the world – the ground beyond the Black Gate had shaken and split, and the Towers of Sauron had come crumbling down, signaling his end. There could only have been one reason for it, one cause: Frodo and Sam must have prevailed and the Ring must have been thrown back into the consuming fires of Mount Doom. The reign of Sauron was ended, and his spirit vanquished from the world.

The sound of rejoicing filled Legolas' ears as cries of joy erupted and echoed around him, and Gimli and Pippin were slapping each other in incredulous elation. Blinking away his astonishment, Legolas looked about him. Blood and death mingled with tears and laughter, just as surely as his own self was covered with the stains of battle. But all that were as passing images to him, for he sought only one face amidst the chaos.

Then the elf saw him. There, among the arms that embraced him, stood the Heir of Isildur, who had led the armies of Gondor and Rohan to victory. He was disheveled and dirty and clearly exhausted, and on his face there was a look of stunned disbelief.

Legolas thought his heart would break with the pride he felt over Aragorn's victory, and he stood rooted to the spot, finding no words he could say to describe what he felt. Mutely, he watched the look of astonishment on Aragorn's face turn slowly to an expression of fulfillment, and he saw quiet tears flow down the man's cheeks.

Then Aragorn looked around, eagerly seeking something… someone… till his eyes fell on what he sought. Freeing himself from the hold of his soldiers, he approached Legolas, smiling through his tears.

Man and Elf stood before each other for a moment during which neither spoke or moved. Each studied the face of the other, a hundred thoughts chasing each other in their minds that could not be voiced.

"You have done it, Aragorn," the elf breathed at last, placing his arms on the man's shoulders. "With so much against you… oh, Aragorn! You've won back Gondor from the Dark Lord!"

Without a word, Aragorn embraced the elf and held him in a tight embrace. And for many moments more, the man did not speak but sobbed quietly into the golden hair of the elf prince. Legolas returned his embrace, happy to hold the man he loved, and knowing that no speech could truly capture the triumph of the moment.

Then Aragorn raised his head and looked at Legolas. There was a small smile on his tear-stained face, but to Legolas' dismay, it was tinged with sadness. The elf placed his hands on the battle-weary face and studied it anxiously, gazing into the emotion-filled eyes.

"Aragorn, what is the matter?" he asked softly, his eyes narrowing in worry. "It is over, my love, and you have gained victory over the evil of Sauron. Why the sorrow?"

Aragorn's eyes darted away from the piercing gaze of the elf, and he swallowed. "I wish… I wish things had been different, Legolas," he said softly.

Puzzled, the elf looked to where he thought was looking, and he exhaled. Was Aragorn looking upon the dead? Body upon body lay around them – young, old, fair and foul, man and orc – they were all once living, breathing beings. But now they were still and would walk no more nor see the light of the sun.

_Aragorn must be looking at all these men who had perished fighting against Sauron, dying so that he could reclaim Gondor,_ Legolas thought. _Ai, Aragorn, I understand your sorrow, but our Quest was not for Gondor alone – it was bigger than that!_

The elf longed to kiss away the tears from the bearded face, but he did not wish to do so openly before Aragorn's men – not till Aragorn had decided to make their relationship known, not till… till it was declared through their bonding. At that thought, despite everything around him, Legolas felt a surge of happiness run through him.

"The battle for Middle-earth has been won, Aragorn," he said gently to the man. "You have come to the end of your labors at long last – and all that is left… is for you to be crowned."

Legolas thought Aragorn would find some measure of solace at that reminder, but the look of sorrow did not leave the man's face. Instead, Aragorn looked around a little longer, then turned back to Legolas and asked quietly: "Was it worth all this death?"

Legolas inhaled sharply, pained at the man's obvious confusion. "Death is never welcome or desired, Aragorn, but sometimes necessary," the elf said gently. "Do you not remember, Estel, why we undertook this Quest?"

"Yes, remember it!" a voice added, and the man and elf turned to see Gandalf walking towards them, his sharp ears and senses obviously having caught even the quiet conversation. Reaching them, the old wizard gazed at Aragorn, noting the weariness on the mortal face, and the aged eyes softened. "Much grief has touched us, Aragorn, none of it asked for," he said. "But remember Denethor, Aragorn, and his madness. Remember the hold Sauron had on him. You saved Gondor from him – from them. Would you have wanted Gondor to continue suffering under such evil?"

Aragorn cast his eyes down, struggling with his emotions. "No," he confessed. "No, I would not. But... Faramir could have led the people. He could rule in my stead."

Gandalf sighed in sympathy, but he spoke firmly. "It was not Faramir that Sauron feared, Aragorn," the wizard pointed out. "It was _you_ who had to lead the armies, not Faramir. And remember the Army of the Dead – they fought and took the Black Fleet only because of you; they would have listened to none other!" The wizard laid a kind hand on the man's shoulder as Legolas looked on gratefully. "Do not regret what has been done, son of Arathorn."

Aragorn made as if to say something in response, but at that moment, Gwaihir the Windlord swooped down and approached Gandalf, creating a wind with his great wings.

"Ah, my old friend!" said the wizard, turning his attention to the majestic eagle. "I would ask you to bear me once more, for we have two hobbits to save from the fires and fumes of Mordor!"

Then the wizard mounted the eagle and was borne to the skies, heading towards Mount Doom. At his departure, Aragorn said no more, nor did he speak further with Legolas. He turned away and returned to his armies, and his expression was that of a king aware of his grim responsibility: a king who had to begin the hard task of putting his country back together.

But as Legolas watched in silent concern, the elf felt that Gondor was not the only thing weighing on the man's mind. Something else was disturbing Aragorn, making his heart heavy, and the elf worried for him.

"Give him time, Elf, give him time," said a voice beside the elf.

Legolas looked down to see Gimli beside him with his hands on his hips. "Let him get over the carnage – and he'll be himself again."

Then the dwarf winked and walked away, leaving an astonished Legolas to wonder how much his bearded friend had noticed.

--xx00xx--

The White City was immersed in a whirlwind of activity in the days following the victory over Sauron. The overjoyed citizens of Minas Tirith worked hard to repair and put the City in order, eagerly awaiting the long-awaited return of the rightful King.

The news spread like wildfire that the King was truly back among them, and wherever he went, the people looked upon in awe and a little fear. His healing powers, too, were received with great gratitude as he went about tirelessly laying his hands upon those who had been grievously injured, bringing them back to health with the power of the Numenorean kings. Weary he might be, but Aragorn showed his mercy and compassion with a dedication that quickly made him a beloved figure and source of comfort to the residents of a ravaged city. In between working with those in need of healing, he also began directing the slow and painful restoration of the streets and buildings of the seat of his kingdom.

Indeed, Aragorn was kept so busy by the City's leaders that Legolas hardly saw him for more than an hour or two each day, and when they did meet, the man could only speak about what else he needed to do for the city. His smiles and laughter were still too infrequent for the elf's liking. Increasingly, Legolas felt unable to discard the feeling that there was more on Aragorn's mind than the City.

"He is still unused to his new responsibility, Legolas," Gandalf said consolingly when the elf consulted the wizard about it. "He needs time, and perhaps you shall see him return to his usual self once he has been crowned King."

The elf nodded reluctantly. "Let us hope so, Mithrandir," he said. "I hate to see him being so burdened with work and worry – and he seems like a shadow of himself. There is little joy in his countenance now despite the defeat of Sauron."

A twinkle entered the old wizard's eye. "Well now, young one!" he said, smiling. "Again, the coronation must be the solution, for as soon as he is crowned, he will be able to claim that which he has fought for – and then it will be up to you to see that joy is returned to his face. You cannot expect him to be truly happy till then, can you?"

Catching Gandalf's meaning, Legolas blushed becomingly and lowered his eyes. "I confess that I can hardly wait for the day myself, Gandalf," he replied. "_Adar_ and Thalion should be here soon, as should Lord Elrond and his family, for they would have heard the news of Aragorn's victory. There will be no reason then for anyone to stand in the way of… of… " The elf faltered, lowering his eyes again shyly. "You know what I mean, Gandalf."

The wizard laughed. "Oh, I know very well of what you speak!" he said. "And you are right: as soon as Aragorn is ready to be crowned, they will be here, and you can rest assured they will readily accept your bonding with him."

"You have spoken of this with Aragorn?" Legolas asked. "I have not had the chance, and he seems so preoccupied with his tasks that I do not want to bring this up prematurely."

"Well… I have spoken to him about his need to be crowned soon, for Gondor must have her ruler quickly," Gandalf replied. "Of the bonding, little has been discussed, but he knows that it will follow, I'm certain, and I'm just as certain that he looks forward to it as much as you do! He only waits for the others to heal before the coronation takes place."

The days flew by, and soon Frodo and Sam were declared whole again, as were Merry, Faramir and Eowyn – all of whom had taken hurt during the battles and had been healed by Aragorn himself. Then the day came when Aragorn sent for Legolas, and the elf was led along a long, lonely corridor to the throne room of the Citadel.

Inside, Aragorn was standing alone at a window. He turned when Legolas entered and he beckoned the fair being over.

Gazing upon the face of the man he loved, Legolas saw that Aragorn had at some point during the day procured a shave, and he had had his hair and beard trimmed, so that he looked very much like the king he was soon to be. Feeling his heartbeat quicken at the sight of the handsome man, Legolas said his name and approached him, and upon reaching the window, the elf could see that the opening overlooked the lower levels of the city. He guessed that Aragorn must have been once again pondering his responsibilities as ruler of Gondor.

Aragorn motioned for his guards to leave the room, and when they had left, he pulled the elf to him without a word and kissed him fiercely – it seemed to Legolas – for the first time in many months, as if he were releasing all the passion he had bottled up inside throughout the Quest. Happily, Legolas melted in his arms and held him close, tasting the lips and mouth and tongue he had sorely missed, feeling the world around them dissolve in the heat of their embrace.

Then reality came creeping back in when Aragorn drew away and said in a serious tone: "It is time for me to take the Crown of Gondor, Legolas, it is time to reclaim my realm."

The sun coming through the window sparkled in the elf's blue eyes. "Aye, Aragorn, it is time, and I am glad for you," the elf said happily. "And… for us."

Aragorn's heart ached from the beauty of the elven face, and he was struck mute by its radiance. Then he smiled in the slow, sad manner that had come to characterize him, and he ran his thumb gently along Legolas' jaw. "Gandalf has also told me that I should wed as soon as possible and bring a sense of wholeness to the realm," he said quietly. "And I think it must be so too."

Joy filled Legolas' heart at those words, and he would have kissed Aragorn again there and then, if a loud knock on the door had not interrupted them. Drawing apart quickly, Aragorn and Legolas watched two of the City's nobles approach them to seek Aragorn's advice on the preparations for his coronation. Aragorn threw Legolas an apologetic smile, at which the elf shook his head in understanding.

"Go with them, Estel," he said smilingly. "There will be time enough for us later."

Aragorn did not depart immediately. Instead, to Legolas' surprise, he locked hard blue-grey eyes upon the elf before him, and to the elf's alarm, a tear rolled slowly down one cheek. Without looking at the Gondorians behind him, Aragorn spoke to them in a clipped tone. "I will be with you in a few moments," he said. "Wait for me outside."

When the men had bowed and left the room, a worried Legolas clasped the man's face between his long hands and stroked the tanned cheeks with his thumbs. "Estel, my love," he breathed. "Why do you weep? It will not be long before we are bonded, and then we sh– "

Legolas never finished his words, for Aragorn pulled him into another tight embrace and crushed his lips on the elven ones. Threading his fingers through the golden hair, the man once again kissed the elf hungrily, deeply – and it seemed to Legolas – almost desperately. The elf yielded to him helplessly, his astonishment lost in the passion that flowed through him as Aragorn claimed his mouth and robbed him of the ability to think. Moaning into the kiss, the elf ran his hands over the man's strong shoulders and down his back, and before he knew it, they had travelled down to the man's waist and below.

Then, just as abruptly as he had begun, Aragorn ended the kiss and pulled away, his eyes still closed. The man wiped the tears off his cheeks and mumbled to the surprised elf: "I cannot be distracted, Legolas. I'll see you later at the evening meal; there is much to be done."

Legolas was even more taken aback when, without another word, Aragorn spun around sharply and strode off in the direction of the door, leaving a stunned elf looking after him, wondering what had happened.

"Oh, Aragorn," the elf breathed in sympathy when the man had exited the room. "What ails you, my heart? You must feel the weight of your task! Let us be bonded soon so that I can be free to be at your side to comfort you."

Still shaking from the ferocity of Aragorn's kiss, from both the hunger and desperation in it, the elf left the throne room. He too needed to make his own preparations to receive his father and brothers who would not be long in arriving. All misgivings and anxieties fled from his mind in his joyous anticipation of his hard-bought union with Aragorn.

--xx00xx--

The long-awaited day soon dawned upon Legolas, and he could hardly contain his happiness. Indeed, the whole city was alive with eagerness and joy as the people reveled in their freedom from the Dark Lord and the presence of the true king. Lord Elrond and his sons, and the royal family of Mirkwood had already been here for a few days, all waiting to share two moments of triumph with their loved ones: there would be Aragorn's coronation – and then there would be the wedding the man had asked and fought for for almost two years ago.

Thranduil had assured Legolas that as soon as Aragorn was crowned, he and Lord Elrond would have an audience with the King, and there they would reveal to Aragorn how they had never objected to his bonding with Legolas, and how they had all looked forward to this day.

"This day" was now here. Legolas watched with fierce pride as the man he loved – the little boy who had suffered and overcome so much – knelt before Gandalf and received the winged Crown of Gondor on his head. And as he stood and faced the ecstatic crowd who cheered his name, Legolas thought his heart would burst from the sheer joy of seeing Aragorn, the King Elessar, standing tall and majestic in his royal robes before a city that would grow to respect and adore him.

Dressed in radiant silver and blue himself, Legolas stood with his family, watching Aragorn from a distance. This day belonged to Gondor and Aragorn, the elf thought. This hour of triumph – though brought about by Frodo and the Fellowship to a large extent – marked Aragorn's personal victory as well, and the elf prince allowed the man to be the center of attention of his rapt audience. After all, he thought with a slight thrill, Aragorn would soon be his to hold. He had to learn to share the King with his people.

After the festivities, as his father had promised, arrangements were made for the King, and for the families from Mirkwood and Rivendell, to gather in the large sitting room where the King would receive his guests. The only member of the family not present was Arwen, who was heavy with child, and did not think it wise to travel to the City.

Aragorn had removed his crown and looked a little tired from the ceremony. He rose and bowed formally to Lord Elrond and King Thranduil when they entered, and bade everyone to take a seat. Legolas – still wishing to respect Aragorn as the new King and not yet his wedded spouse – sat with his father.

Seeing this, Thalion whispered to his youngest brother. "Why will you not sit with Aragorn?" he asked.

"It is not yet my time, Thalion," the prince replied. "I will not impose myself till that moment arrives, and my place is truly at the side of the King."

Nodding at the wisdom of his brother, Thalion smiled and listened as his father, Gandalf and Lord Elrond spoke.

"The time has come that we have all been hoping and waiting for, Aragorn," Gandalf began. "Gondor has regained her ruler, and the days of the King will be blessed."

"That is surely my hope, Gandalf," Aragorn replied, and his face grew a little grim again. "It will not be an easy task to rebuild Gondor, but it will be my task to bear, and I will do my utmost."

"And you shall succeed with our help, and the help of all your friends," Lord Elrond assured him. "But such matters will be discussed in due time. At this moment, we – er – need to discuss another matter of – well, more immediate importance."

Everyone in the room – save Aragorn, who kept this head bowed – glanced at Legolas and threw him a quick smile. The elf blushed again and bowed his head as well, but his fingers discreetly removed two pouches from within his tunic, where he kept the two halves of the green stone. It would soon be time to take them out and join them as one, he thought with quiet joy.

"Now is a good time for you to take a mate, Aragorn," said Gandalf. "One who is your equal in stature and strength, and in the goodness of your hearts, that you may rule Gondor together in your shared wisdom."

Aragorn looked up and met the wizard's eyes. "I have long hoped for that happiness, Gandalf," he said quietly. "Long had I wished to take that road, but if you recall, it was barred." At those words, he looked at Thranduil, and though there was no anger on his face, there was no smile either, as if some painful memory was flitting through his mind.

"That road is no longer barred," said the woodland king, understanding the man's meaning. "And the bonding that you so long desired is no longer beyond your reach." Thranduil stood and beckoned Legolas to his side. When the golden-haired prince came shyly, they both slowly approached Aragorn, who also rose to face the smiling elves.

"You once asked for a union with my beloved son, and I withheld my permission, with good reason - of which you will soon learn," said the elven monarch. "But let me first settle that which must be uppermost in your mind, Elessar of Gondor. Today, you have met the condition I set on you – and I willingly grant you your request. May you dwell in wedded bliss all the days of your life, and may the union be an asset to your reign."

The room hushed as many pairs of eyes looked expectantly at Aragorn and the youngest prince of Mirkwood. They both stood tall and straight, facing each other.

Legolas' eyes shone tearfully with joy as they had the first time Aragorn had proposed marriage to him in the Mirkwood palace, and he beamed at the King of Gondor, awaiting the words that would indicate the beginning of their union – a date, an hour, that would mark the fulfillment of their desires. His fingers were wrapped around the pouches, ready to make the green stone whole for the first time.

But Aragorn had grown quiet – almost as pale as he had been on the morning when he had first asked Thranduil for his blessing to wed his son, and the others in the room could not help feeling a little amused when they remembered how nervous the man had been that first time. Surely he would not be feeling the same fear now, they thought in sympathy, for, after all, the woodland king had already given his permission but a few moments ago.

Yet, Aragorn remained still, and the pallor did not leave his face as he continued to fix unblinking eyes upon Legolas and his father.

"Aragorn, have you gone daft again?" Gandalf chided teasingly. "Speak! Or will we have to wait another two years for your wedding?"

Quiet laughter burst forth at the wizard's words, and Elladan could not help throwing in a remark of his own. "Courage, Estel!" he hissed. "Or you will never be wed!"

Aragorn swung around to face Gandalf and Elladan, and he spoke then. But no one was prepared for the hard words that hit their ears, or the profound sadness that accompanied them.

"I will be wed some day, I hope, for I will need someone to make my life whole," he said in an even tone that was calm but filled with pain. "But it will _not_ be to someone who seeks my kingship or my throne. It will _not_ be to someone who does not think me worthy enough!"

He turned back to face a stunned Legolas and continued to speak in a choked voice. "I would have given you my life, Legolas, and my heart, and all that I had. No matter how little that was, it would have been all of me," he said in a strangled voice. "But your father wished for a king. I should not have been surprised, for he would want more for his son – but I did not think you would agree with him! It was clear that I was not good enough for you."

The agony in Aragorn's voice grew more grievious to hear, and his voice was contorted with a pain from inside as he continued to speak. "For two years, Legolas, I struggled with that thought, dying inside from the torture of knowing that you would not accept a simple Ranger. I once thought I could overlook it – but no longer. If I was not good enough for you then, I am not good enough now, and there will be no bonding between us."

Shock gripped everyone in the room and rendered them mute for many moments as they stared in disbelief at Aragorn and took in the gravity of his words. Legolas felt his world spinning around him. Then Thalion responded.

"Aragorn!" he cried, walking briskly up to the man. "Do you know what you are saying? Have you lost your mind? Do you know – "

"My mind is in its right place!" Aragorn answered, now angrily. "It is my heart that lies at risk, for I gave it away to one I loved with everything I had, but it has been played with, and I do not wish for it to be broken any more!"

With those words, he turned and stormed out of the room, shouting out some commands to the guards outside.

The company of elves he had departed from were too stunned to move at first, but then, of one accord, Lord Elrond and Thranduil, as well as Gandalf, Elladan and Elrohir followed Aragorn swiftly. The King of Gondor had walked briskly and furiously into the set of rooms that he had made into his private chambers, leaving strict orders to the guards to allow none to enter.

"Aragorn!" Elrond shouted when he approached the chambers. "For Valar's sake, wait!"

But four guards immediately blocked the passage of the elves, and they would not budge from their station before the door. A heated argument ensued before the locked wooden doors, with everyone talking at once. Gandalf tied to be as intimidating as he could, but more of the Citadel guards came running, drawn by the commotion, and they stood their ground, burning with zeal to obey the commands of their new king.

The elves were infuriated and frantic, desperately trying to speak with Aragorn, but the guards were adamant and had drawn swords. Finally, to avoid bloodshed, the elves stepped back.

"Patience!" Gandalf urged. "Aragorn will have to emerge and speak to us at some point. Let us wait till then."

"That is fine for us!" Thranduil said angrily. "But not so for Legolas. Can you imagine what my son is going through now?"

Legolas had not joined in the pursuit, but had remained in the sitting room, trembling from the shock of the unexpected words from Aragorn. Grief assaulted him the moment he realized the impact of that speech, and he sank to his knees, growing as white as a sheet. Alarmed, his brothers had resisted the urge to run after Aragorn, and stayed with Legolas.

"The man has lost his mind!" Thalion cried in rage.

"No, lay no blame on him!" Legolas protested in a shaky voice. "He has the right to refuse me - but I did not think - oh Aragorn!" The elf crumbled then as the tears came.

"He did not mean what he said, Legolas, he cannot have meant it - he does not yet know the truth!" Alkarmenel insisted. "When he does, he will come to his senses, _tithen pen_, do not despair!"

Many other words of solace and reasoning his brothers poured upon him, but Legolas could not be comforted. His tears flowed fast and furiously, and thoughts tumbled through his mind in a jumbled mess.

"I saw it, I saw his pain, I knew something was terribly amiss, but I could not understand!" he choked out between painful sobs that wracked his body. "If he thinks so badly of me, then he can no longer love me!"

"No, that cannot be!" Thalion said, holding his brother in his arms. "He still loves you –"

"How can he, if he believes that I wish for his crown!" Legolas cried. "I saw him change – day by day, bit by bit, I saw him grow sad and hard, and I did not know why! His love for me has been eroded by his mistaken belief, and now – now it is too late!"

"Nay, little one, nay!" Thalion said, his heart breaking for his brother. He was shaking with fury himself, for Aragorn had hurt the one he loved most in the world, but he did believe that the man had merely been badly mistaken. "He cannot have lost all the love he had for you – such love is not lost that easily. Remember the green stone – does it not tell you that you and he are meant for each other?"

Legolas looked up at those words, and his face grew into a mask of anger and bitterness. He opened his palm and showed Thalion the two pouches he had clutched in it.

"Of what use are these?" he demanded angrily. "They tell me nothing! Poor guide the Stone is – it pointed me to a happiness that was not meant to be!" The heartbroken elf threw the pouches on the ground and stood up quickly, breaking out of his brother's hold. "I wish to return home, and I beg you not to stop me! I will not stay where I am no longer wanted."

The distraught elf ran out of the room, without a single thought for his belongings or any of the people he was leaving behind. He would stop only long enough to ask a startled stable groom to please inform his friend Gimli that he was leaving for Mirkwood.

"He will be headed for the stables," Thalion said quickly as he headed for the door himself, pulling Menel with him. "Please, Menel, go after him – our guards as well, and if you cannot stop him, see him safely home!"

His head still spinning from the shocking developments, Menel nodded numbly. Then he grasped his brother's arm. "What about you, Thalion?"

The eldest prince's eyes grew as hard as his heart that ached for Legolas. "I will find _Adar_, then head home as well," he said in a cold tone as he strode away from his brother, in the direction Aragorn had gone. "But first," he said under his breath, "I have a man to kill."

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_Thank you to the readers who took time to leave reviews last chapter._


	18. Truth Revealed

**Chapter 18: Truth Revealed **

"Come out, Aragorn! I have silenced twelve of your guards and do not wish to hurt more! You cannot avoid us forever! Come out!"

The fair but strong voice of Thoronthalion rang out before the door of the King of Gondor's private chambers. Around the elf prince lay the dozen dazed guards who had tried to stop him when he had come charging in rage, demanding to see the King. They had been no match for the skills and strength of the woodland elf, and only the restraining arms of Elladan and Elrohir had stopped him from felling even more men who had come to surround the elves. And when Thalion had begun hurling himself against the solid oak doors, his father and Gandalf had reasoned with him lest he hurt himself in vain.

"My fury is as great as yours, Thalion," said Thranduil in controlled grief, grasping his son's shoulders when the elf prince had calmed a little. "Aragorn has caused Legolas great pain, but reason must prevail. He needs to understand what truly transpired. Rage against rage solves nothing. Let him emerge so that things can be clarified."

"Your father speaks wisely for one whose son has been wronged," Elrond said in admiration of the Woodland king. "We must understand that Aragorn cannot be blamed either, for he was made to feel unworthy of Legolas for two years. In this matter, neither he nor Legolas is at fault."

"Aye, if at all there is any to be held responsible, it is we who counseled the deception, if deception it must be called," Gandalf added, sighing.

"That may be so," said Thalion, his face still flushed with fury though he kept it in check. "I can understand his anger - but to have shamed my brother in so open a manner is not an easy matter to overlook or excuse!"

Gandalf shook his head. "I trust that once Aragorn learns the truth, he will understand that his anger was unfounded, and his own remorse will be terrible," he said. "Allow us who are not of Mirkwood to speak with him first, for he may view us as disinterested parties."

"I will speak with all, before the whole army of Gondor comes running to view this spectacle!" called a steely voice as the great oak doors opened to reveal an unsmiling Aragorn. He stood straight and firm, but his face was pale, and he was clearly weary from his emotional toil. "What 'truth' is this that you speak of?" he demanded, revealing that he had heard at least part of the conversation. His eyes were hard as he looked from Gandalf to the elves and back. Then his brows furrowed, and he swallowed before asking in a softer tone: "And where is Legolas?"

Thalion's eyes flashed in hot rage and he clenched his fists as he took a step closer to Aragorn. "Why would you care to know now? Would you seek to hurt him further?" he spat. Then before Aragorn or any of his guards could react, the swift-handed elf had grasped Aragorn by the collar of shirt, his fair face now a mask of fierce outrage. "I would rip you apart for what you did to him –"

"If not for the fact that you are not truly to blame, Aragorn, for there is a truth you were not party to!" Gandalf said, intervening quickly even as Thranduil gripped his son's arm and the guards of the Citadel drew swords with a cry and pointed them at the elf prince.

"Hold!" Aragorn called to his men, raising his hand to arrest their attack on Thalion. The newly crowned king was both stunned and angered by the sudden assault, but he remained composed and showed no fear. He set his lips in a thin hard line and stared back at Thalion unblinkingly.

"Thalion, keep our honor!" the Woodland king whispered between gritted teeth. "We do not want bloodshed, it would do Legolas no good."

"Peace, Thalion!" said Elrond, stepping in quickly as well. "And come, Aragorn," he said, placing a hand on the shoulder of the seething king that he had known and loved from childhood. "Let us stop this unnecessary conflict and talk calmly. We have only just won a hard war against our greatest enemy; let us not now make enemies among ourselves."

At the reminder of the recent victory against Sauron, and how Aragorn had borne much hardship to free Middle-earth from that hated threat, Thalion closed his eyes and exhaled. Releasing his hold on Aragorn, he stepped back and nodded to Aragorn in silent acknowledgment and reluctant apology. Aragorn nodded curtly in return, but it was enough to make everyone around them breathe more easily.

Dismissing his men, Aragorn turned and re-entered his chambers, leaving the doors open in unspoken invitation to the others to follow. Of one accord, the elves and Gandalf followed him in, and they were soon standing in a loose circle in the king's spacious antechamber. Thranduil and Thalion consciously chose to place themselves furthest from the man, tension still evident in their stance.

"I meant no disrespect earlier, my lord," Aragorn said unsmilingly to the Woodland king, breaking the uneasy silence and surprising the monarch. "But over the two years, I asked myself why I had to prove my worth to the elven realms, and I came to realize that if I am not good enough –"

"Aragorn," Gandalf interrupted. "You may not have realized it, but you succeeded in freeing Middle-earth largely because of Legolas, or at least because of the motivation from the challenge his father set you – "

"That much I know," Aragorn rejoined. "I decided to undertake the task of reclaiming the throne of Gondor only because you asked it of me, and because Legolas agreed with you," he said to Thranduil. He took a deep breath before he continued. "Over time, when I had seen the suffering of men under Sauron and Saruman's power, the Quest became more personal to me, and I was committed to freeing Gondor from them – even if it meant taking a Crown I never wished for."

At those words, Gandalf, Elrond and Thranduil exchanged looks of satisfaction, for they knew that they had acted correctly.

"But my growing commitment to the future of Gondor did not change the knowledge of what Legolas expected of me," Aragorn continued, his voice beginning to take on a bitter edge. He turned away from the group and faced the window, gripping the wide sill tightly. "I began to wonder if I could live with someone who would only wish to bond with me if I were a king – and the more I thought about it, the more it cut into me like the deepest knife wound – worse than a wound…"

Aragorn's voice trailed off, and the listeners could feel the pain that was creeping into it as the man lowered his head in obvious turmoil. "I have loved – even worshipped – Legolas since the day I met him. He was all I'd ever hoped to have, all I'd ever desired." The man's voice now shook as misery sharp and keen overwhelmed him. "My life will mean little without him… but if he thinks me so unworthy – "

"He does not, you fool!" Thalion cried, unable to restrain himself. Aragorn turned back to face him, a questioning look in his blue-grey eyes.

"Aye, Aragorn, he does not," Gandalf confirned.

"Alas! You punish Legolas for keeping an oath of secrecy _we_ laid upon him," Thranduil added, shaking his head.

"Aragorn meted out the punishment unwittingly," Elrohir pointed out. "But that makes it no less hard on Legolas."

"It is hard for both of them," Elrond pointed out.

Aragorn looked in confusion from one elf to the other and raised his hands to halt the conversation. "Would someone pray tell me what you are talking about?" he asked, troubled by the comment that he was punishing Legolas wrongly. "What oath? What secret? Is this the 'truth' you were speaking of earlier? What –"

"Sit, Aragorn," Gandalf told the perplexed king. "It is time you learned what truly happened."

Soon, a shocked Aragorn was being told of a conspiracy that had begun two years ago – one that had been well meant and deemed crucial. Joy flooded the stunned king when he learned that Legolas had - against his wishes - been involved only because he believed it to be necessary, for it meant that the elf had never thought him unworthy. But his joy turned to horror as he realized what he had done to the elf he loved. Thranduil's words rang in his ears.

_You punish Legolas for keeping an oath of secrecy we laid upon him. _

"Alas! Why was I not told the truth?" the man asked bitterly.

Gandalf smiled sympathetically. "Aragorn, do you not remember?" the wizard asked. "You were told several times exactly what you needed to do as the heir of Isidur – both in Imladris and in the halls of Mirkwood, but you refused to accept the task. You said you wanted only to be left in peace… we had no choice but to find a way to make you wage the war against Sauron."

"And Legolas told us that at some point during the Quest, you said you would not have agreed to the Quest if he had not set the same conditions for the bonding as his father had," Elrond added. "Is that not true?"

Aragorn placed his head in his hands and groaned in misery. "Yes, yes!" he said. "But that was before… before… I…"

"We know, Aragorn, we know," Gandalf said gently, placing his hands on the man's sagging shoulders. "We were going to tell you the truth – and to ask for your understanding and – yes – your forgiveness – as soon as you were safely crowned, but – unfortunately…as you know… we never reached that moment."

"I know, I know," Aragorn lamented. "What have I done?"

"Aragorn, we have never thought you unworthy," Thranduil explained, approaching the seated man. "I hope you understand that now. Legolas has accepted and valued you for everything you are since the day he met you."

Aragorn's remorse knew no end as he realized the great grief he had inadvertently brought upon the elf who loved him above all others, and who had kept a secret at cost to himself only because of that love. "Legolas, Legolas! How do I face you now?" he cried brokenly. Tears escaped the young king's eyes as his distress grew.

"Go seek him and explain," Elrohir said gently. "He will forgive you."

Aragorn shook his head. "Why should he?" he wept. "I have shamed him, and returned his love with thoughtless, hateful words. I've cast away the one true thing in my life. It is I who is not worthy of him!"

"There is no question about whether you or he are worthy of each other, Aragorn!" Elrond said firmly. "You have both acted nobly in your own ways!"

Aragorn shook his head vehemently. "I do not know how to face him," he continued to lament. "My foolish words brought him shame!"

"But you, too, faced no less embarrassment when we made you seem unworthy two years ago," Thranduil said generously, to Aragorn's surprise. "If you can understand and forgive what we did, my son will also be quick to forgive what you said."

Thalion thought back to the way his brother had defended Aragorn a little while ago. "Even in his shock, Aragorn, even when his heart was breaking, Legolas insisted that we lay no blame on you," the prince added. "Is that not proof that he would not hesitate to set things right with you?"

"It is only a grievous misunderstanding that separates you both," Elrohir pointed out.

"And it is a misunderstanding that can be corrected," his twin added quickly. "You need only act. Go to him now."

But Aragorn could not be shaken from the deep sense of regret that seemed to crush him. Elladan and Elrohir found themselves facing a highly distraught man whom they had comforted many times since he was two years of age. This time, however, Aragorn continued to reject their counsel, and there was little they could do to assuage the keen and bitter pain in his heart.

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_Reviewers of Chap 17: Thank you for taking the time. That includes **ann,** **machan **and** just-a-fan **who did not provide email for me to reply to._


	19. In Search of Healing

**Chapter 19****: In search of Healing**

Spring had come early that year, the Spring in which Aragorn son of Arathron, now King Elessar Telcontar, had been crowned in Gondor. It was a Spring that Legolas would never forget.

Perched upon his favorite branch in his favorite tree in the beechwoods he had frequented since he could walk, the elf prince looked through the foliage as he done thousands of times before. _The world has never seemed so green_, he observed, and little did he know that he was thinking the very same thoughts his mother had the day before he was born, those many hundred years ago. Tall beeches still stood sentinel on one side of the lake as they had then, and great bunches of colorful blooms still ringed its edge. The wind sang a tale of events it had witnessed as it always did, and when the sweet chirping of a bird flying far overhead in caught Legolas' attention as it had his mother's, he perceived the finch with the keen eyesight of elves as she had.

But where the departed Queen had sat in contented peace that fateful day long ago, her son did not have the same peace this morning. The joy that had filled her eyes, brilliant azure like this perfect Spring sky, did not shine in his eyes. The smile that had curved her lips as she followed the flight of the finch did not touch his face. Her son caught no green stone released from the bird's beak, and he heard no voice tell him: "It will be his guide to completion."

Though it was again one of the most gorgeous Spring days Mirkwood had ever seen, Prince Legolas Thranduilion – with the golden hair of his Adar and the sapphire eyes of his Naneth – the Greenleaf of his people, was weeping silent tears, his heart still aching from the pain that had resided there since he heard Aragorn spurn his love two and a half weeks ago, in a city now celebrating the return of her king.

Legolas was thinking about his _naneth. _Some days after he had left the White City, he had regretted having cast the stone aside – at least his half of it – for it had been his most precious link to his mother. Yet, through his tears, he found himself asking the absent Queen – with some bitterness – the use of the Green stone if it did not bring him the happiness he sought.

Once again, like he had done every day since his departure from Aragorn, he wavered between feelings of anger and understanding: he was angry at the elder elves for having made him do what he had not wanted to in the first place, yet he understood their noble intentions.

He also wrestled with his emotions towards Aragorn. "You should have known me well enough, Estel," he said tearfully to a man whose body was no longer before him, but whose face filled his waking and sleeping moments. "You should have known how you mean more to me than anything you could ever win, or own, or rule over. You should have known I love you for who you are, no matter if you are the poorest beggar in the land!"

But deep disappointment in Aragorn's rejection of him battled with his own guilt for having been part of the deception that had caused the man to suffer a mistaken assumption for two years. Over and over, the elf berated himself for not having seen all the signs of Aragorn's own painful struggle during the Quest: all the strange things he had expressed at different points of the journey.

"I wish things had been different… I wish this could be ending differently," the man had said before the Black Gates and after their battle with Sauron's troops.

_He had been thinking about the end of our relationship… the end of us,_ Legolas realized now. _He was not thinking about the end of the Quest, or Sauron's rule – but our end._

"You make it difficult for me, Legolas," he had said when Legolas kissed him on the Misty Mountains as they were hiding from the _crebain._

_Yes… difficult for him to leave me as he had planned to even then, _Legolas thought sadly. More tears fell as the elf recalled how Aragorn's anger at everyone – even him – had actually been kindled as soon as the Woodland King had set his conditions for the bonding.

" 'Waiting is a strange thing, is it not?' " Legolas remembered Aragorn asking cryptically. " 'A lot will happen in between,' " the man had said, " 'but if the struggle can help me learn and bring me to the one I should bind with, it will be worth it.' "

_The one he should bind with, _Legolas thought, laughing bitterly. _He had decided even then that it would not be me. Not me!_

For a fleeing moment, the elf felt the keen hurt of betrayal. But just as soon as that feeling had surfaced, he realized how just how betrayed Aragorn himself must have felt, and how deeply the man must have hurt as well. His love for Aragorn overwhelmed his own sorrow, and guilt flowed through him like a burning liquid.

"Nay, I cannot blame you, Estel," the elf sobbed, wrapping his arms around himself. "You are not at fault, and I do not deserve you."

A slight noise below drew Legolas' attention. Peering through the leaves, he caught a glimpse of his brothers walking towards each other. Menel, he knew, had been in the area the entire morning. After failing to coax Legolas out of the tree, the older prince had posted guards in the vicinity, while he hovered nearby. Now Thoronthalion, looking travel weary, was joining him.

_So, Thalion and Adar have returned,_ Legolas thought. He felt a twinge of guilt at how he must be worrying his family, but his own sorrow and confusion overwhelmed him again and he rested his head on his arms, shutting his eyes to whatever was going on below.

"Thank the Valar you've returned!" Alkarmenel whispered to Thalion as they stood a little distance from the tree that hid their brother in its branches. "He refuses to come down."

Thalion nodded. "Arwen says you arrived two days ago," he said. "We did not think you would be so far ahead of us."

Menel sighed sadly. "Legolas rode like the wind, with little rest and almost no food or drink, to come back home," he explained. "He led us all on a merry chase for two weeks through the many leagues of forest and highland, though – our elves will tell you – there was no merriment in it. Only at night could I get him to halt, both for his sake and ours, but no rest nor peace has he found, Thalion, and each night he has either fallen to weeping silently, or singing softly the saddest of songs to rend the hearts of our toughest kin."

Thalion shook his head slowly. "It is no wonder I could not find you, though we set out as soon as we could from Minas Tirith," the prince said. "You must have been moving too quickly for us to pursue, and many were the times _Adar_ and I despaired, wondering if you both were safe."

"If Dol Guldur had not been rendered safe by _Adar_ and Lord Celeborn during the Ring Quest, I dare say we would have been beset by hateful _yrrch_!" Menel said with a shudder. "But we were fortunate; we came across no menacing foe – save one: Legolas' own grief, which endangered him more than any spider or orc we could have faced." The younger prince looked at his brother with worried eyes. "Even now, I fear for him, Thalion. I fear the extent of his grief. I fear that he will... that he will fade. I do not want to lose him –"

The very thought made Thalion's heart clench. "We will not lose him," he said firmly, clasping his brother's shoulder.

Menel shook his head. "Even Arwen has not been able to comfort him or make him touch food since we reached home!" he lamented. "I prayed you and _Adar _would return soon, and now that you have – my heart is much lightened. But… can you remove Legolas' grief? Can you mend his heart?"

Thalion did not respond immediately. He had come straight here as soon as he had seen Arwen and been informed about Legolas' emotional state. He would have given his life for his brother's happiness, but he knew that he was not the one who could bring it.

"Nay, I cannot mend it for him," he replied. "You and I know there is only one who can."

"Say not his name!" Menel said angrily. "Why is he not here? After what he has done –"

"Hush," Thalion said placatingly, squeezing his brother's shoulder. "Hush." He motioned with his head towards the tree. "That is where our concerns should lie."

Up among leaves and branches that kindly hid him from view, the subject of the princes' concern was deep in thought. He heard voices and movement below but did not observe the goings-on, for he was struggling with a decision.

"Legolas, _saes_, come down," the voice of Thalion reached him.

The younger elf did not respond. Not quite ready to face his brothers, he hoped they would leave him alone for a while longer.

"Legolas, it is I. Please come down, Adar is most anxious to see you," Thalion called out again.

The youngest prince sighed. He could not stay away from his family for ever, he knew, and perhaps it was best to face them now and accept his fate. He left the branch he had been sitting on and climbed down nimbly, landing with hardly a sound on the grass below. Out of the corner of his eye, he perceived the slight movement of several figures some distance away. Remembering the guards Menel had placed around the perimeter of the glade, he ignored them and walked straight towards his brothers, moved by the looks of relief on their faces.

"Forgive me for putting you through so much worry," he said quietly as he neared them.

Crestfallen at the tear stains on Legolas' face and the shadows under his young eyes, Thalion drew his brother into a loving embrace and kissed his brow. "There is nothing to forgive, Legolas," he said into the golden hair. "You owe us no apology."

For a few moments, Thalion simply held the young elf, remembering all the times throughout the years of his brother's life that he had held him and aided him, from the day of Legolas' birth till the day the little elf had begun to walk, through his childhood and the beginning of his maturity, through the first days of his training as a warrior of the realm and all the days since. For more than four hundred years, Thalion had devoted himself to his brother's safety and happiness, protecting him from hurts and harms and dangers.

But today… he could be his protector no longer. He had to accept, finally, that his beloved little Greenleaf was little no longer. Legolas had gone through a great war – no less than the Quest of the Ring – and many hurts. Today, his little Greenleaf's life would change.

Swallowing his emotions, Thalion braced himself for what he needed to say next. "Legolas –"

"I wish to leave Mirkwood for a while," Legolas stated quickly, interrupting his brother with the decision he had made a little while ago. "I… I wish to leave –"

Thalion stiffened, then held Legolas at arm's length to look him in the eye. "What?" he asked.

Legolas inhaled and returned his brother's stare. Afraid that he would lose his courage if he waited, he blurted out: "I have to leave home, Thalion, for a time."

Menel gasped. "Legolas – why?" he demanded, approaching his brother. "You cannot –"

Thalion stopped Menel with a raised hand, keeping his eyes on Legolas the whole time. His face was a mask of conflicting emotions. "The day will come when you – or one of us – will leave our home, for a little while, or longer," he said calmly. "No one can stop you, but tell me, Legolas – why do _you_ wish to leave?"

Legolas lowered his head. "My pain is great," he confessed quietly. A small sob told his brothers that he was weeping afresh and did not wish them to see it so clearly. "Perhaps… if I am away from these surroundings that remind me of… of my moments here with Aragorn, I might forget him. Perhaps my pain will go away… in time."

A hush came over the company of princes, and only Legolas' quiet sobs could be heard. The young prince kept his head bowed, unwilling to let his brothers witness his raw grief, while the tears leaked from his closed eyes.

"I know you hurt, Legolas," Thalion said gently. "You hurt because of Aragorn, do you not?"

Legolas nodded slightly, still refusing to look up. "Aye," he answered quietly.

"Even after what he did to you – you still love him?" Menel asked.

"With every breath I take," the younger elf said feelingly, his passion obvious even with his head bowed. "It was not his fault."

Legolas heard an objection on the tip of Menel's tongue, and heard Thalion hush him. More whispers reached Legolas' ears, and the rustle of clothes, and the shuffle of feet - and still, Legolas kept silent, his head resolutely bowed. The young elf did not wish for any more distress on his behalf, but he needed to compose himself for a while longer before he could face his brothers again.

"You still wish to leave home, _tithen pen_?" Thalion asked in a low tone.

Legolas nodded. "I feel I must spread my wings now, Thalion," he said softly. "It is time for me to see different things. Please… please do not stop me."

There was a pause from Thalion before the prince gave a sigh that carried a note of submission. "You feel you are ready, dear one?" he asked quietly, and the love in it almost broke Legolas' heart.

"I shall miss your presence: yours and _Adar's_ and Menel's, for you have been my life," Legolas answered. "But I am ready."

"There are many dangers out there."

"I will take the risk," Legolas said. "I need to take my heart somewhere… and mend it as best as I can." More tears leaked against his will, and bent his head even lower to hide them. "Futile effort it might be, Thalion, for I fear it will never be whole again."

A sharp intake of breath came to Legolas' ears.

"Then I cannot stop you, my little Greenleaf," Thalion said, seemingly reconciled to the idea of his brother's leaving, for his voice sounded less sad. "But if you are going to travel, take a companion with you."

Legolas shook his head. "Nay, I need no one."

"Come, Legolas," Thalion coaxed. "Not even a tracker? He would be useful."

Even with his head bowed, Legolas' bitter laugh was heard clearly. "What I look for leaves no traces," he said. "I need no tracker. He cannot help me find the pieces of my heart and make it whole again. No one has the kind of skill to help me find completion."

"Not even a Ranger, who has spent half his life in the wilds?" a voice queried meekly.

Legolas' head snapped up.

"Not even a man who holds two halves of your guide to completion?" the voice continued.

Legolas' moist eyes widened in surprise as they beheld the tall form of Aragorn. Dressed in neat but plain traveling clothes, with his long, dark hair lifting in the breeze from the lake, the King of Gondor looked weary but – in the eyes of the elf – utterly and heart-breakingly fine. In the man's hand lay the two halves of the green stone the elf had thoughtlessly thrown away in his despair.

"Forgive me," Aragorn said hesitantly, afraid to approach the elf he felt he had wronged. "I have been a fool the size of Mount Doom, Legolas, but if you can find it in your heart to do so – please forgive me."

Legolas was rooted to the spot where his feet touched ground. His tongue cleaved to the roof of his mouth as both joy and hurt filled him, and he could not respond.

Thalion smiled at his youngest brother and squeezed his shoulders reassuringly. "Decide where your heart wishes you to take you, Legolas," he said kindly. "Wherever you wander, our love goes with you." He beckoned to Alkarmenel. "Come, Menel, our job is done. Let us head for home."

Casting Aragorn a look of doubt he could not help, Menel relented nonetheless and followed his brother's lead, leaving the man and Legolas alone in the glade.

At first, an awkward silence hung over the new king and the elf prince. Both had much to say, but neither felt confident enough to start. Then Legolas broke the silence, though he lowered his eyes and would not look at the man he still loved.

"Forgiveness is mine to ask of you, Aragorn," he said, his voice trembling a little. "I… we… I did not mean… I never wanted – "

"I know, Legolas," Aragorn assured him, drawing a little closer to the elf, still afraid to touch him though every fiber of his being longed to hold the golden prince he worshipped. "I should have known earlier, but I was blind –"

"Please, Aragorn, let me say this!" the elf begged, looking up and melting Aragorn's heart with his tear-filled eyes. "I never thought you unworthy, not once."

"I know," the man said simply, never taking his blue-grey eyes off Legolas.

"I did not wish to deceive you, but –"

"I know," Aragorn repeated. "Lord Elrond explained everything."

Legolas swallowed. "Then I have your forgiveness?" he asked softly, studying Aragorn's face, yearning to kiss it but no longer feeling that he had that right.

"There is nothing to forgive," the man answered honestly. "I hold nothing against you, now that I know the full circumstances surrounding everything that took place. In my eyes, Legolas - you acted as you needed to. There is no need for us to dwell longer on the matter, nor engage in further debate on who was right or wrong. It has ended as it should – with Sauron's demise."

Legolas nodded weakly and lowered his eyes again. "Yes… things have ended as they should," he said almost inaudibly, his heart torn in two by Aragorn's words. _What you and I had has also ended as it should, I suppose._

"All is well then," he forced himself to say as steadily as he could, hoping only to get away so that he would not collapse in grief in front of Aragorn. "Thank you for coming all this way so that we could – we could clear up the matter. And – thank you for bringing back my half of the stone I so carelessly threw away. It may not be much, but… it is my link to my _naneth_, and I should not have been so thoughtless."

Aragorn moved a step closer. "Legolas –" he began.

"Where are my manners?" the prince interrupted, wiping his eyes quickly and giving Aragorn a mirthless smile. "You must be tired. Let us find you some refreshment."

The elf began to move off, but Aragorn stayed him with a light touch on his arm. "Please, Legolas, don't leave."

The elf began to tremble, and he did not trust himself to face the man.

"Don't run from me, Legolas," Aragorn pleaded softly. "Please stay."

Legolas' mind was in turmoil. "I am grateful to you for journeying here," he said shakily, still looking away. "But… I am not that strong, Aragorn. It is hard for me to face... to face the fact that you wish to wed someone else. You made that clear in Gondor –"

A small cry of grief escaped Aragorn's lips. "Those were foolish words from a confused mind, Legolas!" the man declared passionately. "I beg you not to take them to heart."

Legolas drew a deep breath and exhaled. His heart leapt at Aragorn's words, but traces of guilt still nagged at him, and it cut into him keenly. "If you uttered that wish, Aragorn, you must have considered the possibility," he said quietly, though he felt a piece of himself fade with each word. "We made no vow... and I do not hold you to anything."

"No mere vow brings me to your side; it is only the love I've had for you since the day I met you!" Aragorn protested, grasping Legolas' arms and turning the elf towards him so that both pairs of tormented eyes met. "Believe me, please."

The elf closed his eyes as more tears streamed down his fair cheeks, and his voice was a painful whisper. "Perhaps it would be better for you as you said... that someone else -"

Desperately, Aragorn pulled the elf close, holding him tightly as he threaded his calloused fingers through the golden hair and breathed in the scent of the elf. "Whatever I might have said or thought in my foolishness, Time would have shown that no one – _no one _– could have taken your place," the man whispered into the elven ear. He closed his eyes in remorse. "I would have lived the rest of my life unbonded and unwed."

Tears leaked from Legolas' eyes. It felt so good, so right to be in Aragorn's arms, but a trace of doubt still remained from all the emotional turmoil he had been through the past two weeks. Legolas raised gentle fingers to Aragorn's face and caressed the man's jawline with a feather-light touch. "Aragorn…" he said hesitantly.

The man sensed Legolas' hesitation, and acted quickly. "Le'las," he sighed, using the name that had first endeared him to the elf. "I love you, Le'las. I need you now as I did all those years ago. I shall be nothing without you."

Legolas' heart melted at the sound of that familiar, beloved pronunciation of his name, and the man holding him was once more the little boy he would have given his life to make happy. But before the elf could say anything, Aragorn drew away from him and reached for something that had lain under his shirt. When his hand emerged, it was clasped about something hanging around his neck: it was the necklace made from Legolas' hair, a little worse for wear, but still strong and intact.

"Do you see this, Le'las?" the man asked, his voice almost a whisper. "Just as this necklace has never come off, I have never stopped loving you. Even through my times of doubt and confusion, I never once parted with it. If the time had come for my end during the Quest, I would have died with it on me –"

Legolas gasped then and stopped Aragorn's speech with slender fingers upon the man's lips. He gazed into the pleading blue-grey eyes before him, then removed his fingers and captured the lips fiercely with his own, forcing away all the past sadness and pain with that kiss. Moaning, Aragorn responded with a passion of his own. Their hands travelled over long-missed arms and chests and backs, their bodies pressed their heat together, and the two souls that had undergone separation and uncertainty and much hardship began to feel healed.

Legolas' lips left Aragorn's just long enough for him to whisper "I love you, Estel, my hope, my life, my all" before they hungrily captured the man's eager mouth again, silencing any response Aragorn might have wished to make. Even the trees and birds seemed to watch them in quiet joy.

For a long while, the lovers held each other tightly, each afraid to let go. Then, when they had kissed away each other's tears, they smiled and lowered themselves onto the soft grass. Aragorn turned Legolas gently so that the elf's back rested comfortably against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around the warm, slender body he had bitterly missed. Legolas rubbed his long fingers slowly over the tanned skin of Aragorn's hands, enjoying the feel of them.

"How I've missed you, Legolas," the man sighed against the golden hair. "So very, very much."

"And I you, Estel. I cannot tell you how sorely I've missed you."

" I… I almost lost you…"

"Shhh," the elf said consolingly, one hand reaching up to touch Aragorn's lips. "We have been through too much; as you say, let us not dwell any longer on the past, but on our future, _meleth._"

A warmth spread through Aragorn, for he liked the sound of the term of endearment from Legolas' lips. "Aye… the future," he echoed. He paused a little, pondering on a thought, before he spoke again. "Legolas?"

"Yes, my love?"

"I heard you say to your brothers that… that you wished to leave Mirkwood, and go somewhere for awhile," the man said almost timidly.

"You were listening the whole time?" the elf asked, smiling.

"Yes, you just didn't see me," the man answered sheepishly. "Well, do you… do you still mean to? Leave, I mean?"

Legolas smiled slyly. "Yes, Aragorn, I still mean to."

A slight gasp escaped Aragorn's lips, and Legolas could hear him swallow what was clearly disappointment. The elf smiled again, hiding it from the man.

"I wish to travel with you, Legolas, for I cannot bear to be apart from you another day," the new king said softly, as if to himself. "Yet…. I have only just begun my task of mending a war-ravaged Gondor." The man was obviously struggling with a decision. "Can I leave my kingdom so soon? What do I do?"

Legolas pulled on Aragorn's arms so that they tightened around his body. "Well, my wonderful king, I will need your company, I fear."

"There is nothing I wish more," Aragorn said feelingly. He paused a moment longer before he spoke again. "Never again will I let anyone keep us apart! I would give up anything for you, _meleth_, be it my kingdom. I will go wherever you go."

Legolas laughed lightly, and a twinkle came into his eyes that the man could not see. "I should hope so, Aragorn, for there is no one I would trust more to lead me to the White City."

Aragorn started and knit his brows. Then he gasped again as realization hit him, and he shifted so that his wide eyes could meet Legolas'. "Legolas, do you mean – are you saying – do you mean that is where you intended to go? To Minas Tirith?"

The elf nodded. "Yes," the elf admitted quietly, lowering his eyes. "If you had not come here today, Aragorn, I might have sought new places, new sights… perhaps without direction… but at the last, my heart would have led me back to your city." The sorrow he had lived with for the past fortnight touched him again and he spoke softly. "I would have kept hidden from your sight, I would have watched you in secret, Estel, watched you live your life without me… till I faded from grief –"

"Say not those words, my heart!" Aragorn protested, feeling pain surge through him at the thought of his beloved elf suffering. Tightening his hold on Legolas, he kissed the elven brow. "If anything had happened to you, I would have followed you in death soon after. But did we not say we should not dwell on such sad matters? Let them remain in the past, and the only thing you said that I still wish for is that you will turn your heart in the direction of Gondor – and me."

"Aye, that is where I wish to go – and live – if you will still have me as your spouse," the elf said shyly.

Now it was Aragorn who smiled in relief as he gently lifted Legolas' face. "The White City would be blessed to have you as my consort, my darling Legolas," the king said, gazing into the blue eyes in which he could become totally lost. "Will you have this unworthy man for your mate, my beautiful prince?"

"How shall the King of Gondor and the Northern Realm be unworthy?" Legolas countered. "My answer is yes – ten thousand times, yes! But not because you are king of those realms; it is only because you are the ruler of my heart."

The elf would have laughed in delight, but Aragorn stopped any sound from his lips with a passionate kiss that stole the elf's breath. Pulling Legolas closer, the man transferred his lips to the fragrant skin under each elven ear, licking and sucking so that Legolas squirmed and mewled in heated desire.

"Aaah, Aragorn, you will undo me here…" the elf moaned, clutching helplessly at Aragorn's arms.

"That, my beloved, is my intention," the man replied impishly, moving his lips unrelentingly over the elven face and neck.

"Oh Valar, Aragorn, it's been too long… I love you, I want to be with you…" Legolas moaned, reaching to remove Aragorn's shirt.

"No more than I want you," Aragorn responded breathlessly, his own hands unlacing the elf's thin shirt and travelling gently over the warm, beloved body. "I want you here," he whispered sultrily as his fingers touched the soft elven lips, then traced a line down Legolas' neck. "And here…" he said when he reached the elf's nipples. "And all the way to here…" he finished with suggestive touches at the top of Legolas' thighs.

The elf closed his eyes, breathing heavily as the King of Gondor proceeded to place feather-light kisses over every inch of bare skin his lips could find.

"Aragorn…" Legolas sighed, pushing himself harder against the man's touch. "Ahhh, Estel…"

The elf's sighs fanned the man's flames of desire, and Aragorn's kisses grew fiercer. Moaning, the new king reached into the elf's leggings and closed around the hard arousal. Then, to the elf's surprise and disappointment, the man stopped his amorous movements and drew away abruptly. His features – so soft with passion a mere breath ago – grew grave and unsmiling, and his fingers tightened around Legolas' arms.

"No," he said firmly and released his hold on the elf. "No, I cannot."

Still shaking from the intensity of what they had shared just moments earlier, Legolas' blue eyes widened with astonishment. "Aragorn?" he asked uncomprehendingly.

The man shook his head firmly. "No, I will not give in," he stated. Then with one swift movement, he rose. Standing straight and tall, he looked down upon the shocked face of the fair elf. "I will not do this."

If Legolas had not already been seated, he would have crumbled to the ground in a heap from the weakness he felt spreading through him.

* * *

**_Thanks so much to all who reviewed the last chapter. This is the last but one chapter - it'd be nice to hear from readers who've read chapter after chapter but never dropped in to say hi. _:)**


	20. Completion

**Chapter 20****: Completion**

In the private chambers of the elven king, the Mirkwood monarch was seated in his favorite armchair, his strong, slim fingers drumming softly against the rich fabric. Before him sat Thoronthalion, his expression outwardly calm, though the king knew that his eldest son was as restless as he was. Arwen rested securely on the arm of the prince's chair, leaning slightly against her husband, her fingers entwined with those of his. By the king's side stood Alkarmenel with his back to him, for the prince was looking out the window.

The king did not have to ask to know the object of his sons' reflective musings: like their father, the princes were thinking about Legolas and the conversation he must be having at this moment with Aragorn – a conversation that they hoped would clear the air between the young lovers and bring about a happy ending to the unhappy situation that had arisen. Thranduil's heart was much lighter than it had been on his ride back to Mirkwood a day ago, but he too was waiting in anticipation for the outcome of the meeting between his youngest son and the new king of Gondor.

"Do not be anxious, Adar," said Thalion reassuringly, as much for his sake as for his father's. "I am certain all will be well once they have talked together."

"One can only hope," Menel mumbled to the window, but it did not escape the sharp ears of his family. "I don't want Aragorn to hurt Legolas again."

"Come, Menel, we have agreed that that was a mistake, and one for which he cannot be blamed," the king reminded him.

"And he is setting it right, is he not?" Arwen added in defense of the man she had helped raise from childhood.

"One can only hope," Menel repeated, though he had to concede to the truth of their words.

"What should one hope?" asked a rich voice as Elladan and Elrohir entered the chambers. They had accompanied Aragorn on the ride from Gondor and had been refreshing themselves with the fine wines from the cellar of the king. "What should one hope for?" Elladan repeated, looking around.

"That Aragorn does not make another mistake," Menel answered quietly, and turned back to the window.

-xx00xx-

Never before had Aragorn seen Legolas' face as ashen as it was at this moment.

The elf had been warm and glowing when he and Aragorn had been kissing and holding each other close. But as soon as the man had pulled back from their intimate touches, Legolas' eyes had gone wide with shock, and he had immediately paled. Now the light began to leave his eyes, and then with the smallest of whimpers, he went feeble, his body sinking into the grass like a limp rag.

Aragorn's own eyes widened with fear. "Legolas!" he cried, going to his knees at once and enclosing the elf in his arms. "Legolas, what's wrong? What's wrong?" he asked frantically.

Legolas did not answer, but looked at the man through half-hooded eyes. He could not speak, but one question was racing through his mind. _Why?_ he cried out in silence.

Aragorn grew frantic at the sight of the ashen face. "Legolas, please tell me – what is wrong?" he begged, studying the fair face with worried eyes. "Legolas, speak – please speak!"

The elf swallowed painfully. "Why?" he croaked at last. In his voice there were a thousand questions, and in his eyes a thousand sorrows.

The man shook his head in confusion. "Why?" he echoed. "Why… what?"

"You would leave me again?" the elf asked weakly. "After all you said… you would leave me once more?"

Aragorn grew even more confused, his brows knitting. "Leave you!" he cried. "What do you mean? Why would I leave you?"

Tears filled Legolas' eyes. "You… you draw away from me," he said, "yet you ask me why I say that?"

A light of understanding appeared in the young king's eyes, and his features softened in relief. He shook his head vigorously and held the elf tightly against him, burying his face in the golden hair.

"Oh, Legolas, Legolas, you misunderstand!" he said earnestly as his fingers threaded through the golden strands. "I drew back only because our desires were growing and growing. And I wasn't sure if… if I could hold back. My love, my love!" The man looked honestly into the elf's eyes. "_Meleth_, I made your brother a promise two years ago: that I would not take your honor before we were properly bonded. I mean to keep that vow, my beloved, and that was the only reason I drew away."

It was as if a veil of shadows was being lifted from Legolas' face. To Aragorn's great relief, the elf's features softened, and the face that had been drained of blood moments before now began to show the same vitality that had been there, though the young elf's speech still showed no coherence.

"You… you…" Legolas began, clearly struggling for words.

The man laughed lightly and rested his forehead against the elf's. "I love you, my heart, my life," he whispered with feeling. "Never again would I leave you or push you away. I'm sorry my actions imparted the wrong idea."

When the elf sighed in unspoken relief, Aragorn placed his mouth close to the elven ears. "Legolas, I only wish to make our bond lawful in the eyes of your family," he whispered, "and then… and then… nothing will stop me from loving you… in every way possible."

Legolas blushed, and warmth spread through him at the suggestions Aragorn was whispering. His slender fingers traced Aragorn's jaw and then the man's full lips before his own lips claimed the man's. "I can hardly wait," said the elf as he ended the kiss. "And we shall not wait."

Aragorn knitted his brows again. "What do you mean?" he asked. "I would not violate –"

His words were cut off by the elf's clear laughter, and he found himself pulled to his feet by the suddenly spritely elf, and led in a run back to the palace caves.

"Legolas, wait!" he cried helplessly as he struggled to keep up with the laughing elf, but Legolas would not stop. Grasping Aragorn's hand tightly, the elf sprinted lightly over grass and twig and fallen leaf, leading the hapless man down the familiar path to his home. Ten minutes later, a breathless Aragorn found himself facing an astonished King of Mirkwood, his two equally astonished elder sons and daughter-in-law, and the twin sons of Elrond, in the airy chambers where they had all been waiting. The elves leapt from their seats when a smiling Legolas burst into the room with a panting Aragorn in tow.

"My lord, my… my apologies!" the man gasped out at the sight of a flabbergasted Thranduil, feeling slightly embarrassed by how disheveled he himself must look.

Before the king could answer or close his open mouth, Legolas spoke. "Adar, you are King!" he said breathlessly, his eyes shining with excitement. "Bless our bond today – Aragorn's and mine. Let our joining be brought about by your hand, here in our fair woods. Will you do that for us, Adar?"

The elven king looked in surprise at his son, dumbfounded by the sudden but heartfelt request. His eyes shifted to Aragorn, an unvoiced question on the tip of his tongue.

The new king of Gondor was, in truth, as astonished as he was by Legolas' unexpected speech, but he quickly recovered and nodded in agreement. "I join Legolas in his request, my lord," he said, to Legolas' delight. "There will be much greater celebration later in Gondor, of course, especially as Gandalf and Lord Elrond await us in the White City. But if Legolas wishes it to be so – and if you consent to performing the ceremony – there is nothing that I wish more than to be wed to your son today, whom I love with all my heart, and to be bonded with him according to the laws of your people."

Everyone in the room looked at Thranduil, awaiting his answer. The king himself looked from his son to Aragorn and back again, wondering at the impetuous behavior of his youngest heir. But the sheer joy he saw on the face of Legolas made him forget everything except his own love for his son, and with a huge smile of his own, he answered: "It shall be so."

The cheers that erupted around him told him he had made the right decision, and the young couple could hardly breathe for the heartfelt embraces they received from Arwen and the other elves in the room. Before the end of the day, Aragorn and Legolas were joined in matrimony in a ceremony witnessed by members of their families and by the ecstatic citizens of the Woodland realm. Then preparations began in earnest for a celebration to be held the following day, as the people of the Woodland rejoiced at the happiness of their beloved youngest prince.

-xx00xx-

While the elves of the Greenwood worked through the night to prepare for the feast, Aragorn and Legolas lay quietly on the prince's bed, pondering on how quickly the events of the day had developed. They could hardly believe that after two years of restraint, doubt, pain and yearning, they were finally together.

At some point during the day, as soon as the King had made it known that his youngest son would be bonded with the King of Gondor, Arwen had discreetly seen to the preparation of Legolas' sleeping quarters for the newly wedded couple. Fresh linen was laid, and scented candles and fragrant blooms decorated the chamber. Cheese, succulent fruit, and the King's best wine were laid out in splendid array.

As inviting as the food and wine were, Aragorn and Legolas were hungry for something else. They were burning with desire for each other's body, but they took time first to talk and to reveal many thoughts and feelings that they had kept to themselves during the Quest. Aragorn spoke of the times when he had sorrowed in silence, nursing uncertainties and disappointments. Legolas confessed the fears he had felt throughout the Quest, not for himself, but for Aragorn and his family if he should fall. They talked quietly, sometimes laughing lightly as they recalled humorous moments with the Hobbits, sometimes weeping for the friends they had lost. But finally, they turned their attention to each other, and only each other.

Legolas lay prone, looking up into the face of the man he loved, while Aragorn lay on his side, propping his head up with one arm and looking down tenderly at the elf he had married. Legolas' long fingers played gently with strands of the man's dark hair that fell attractively from behind one ear, and he looked so calm and sweet that Aragorn felt his heart flowing over with love for this beautiful being who had incredibly become his today.

"I love you, Le'las," the King of Gondor whispered, his eyes locking with the mesmerizing ones of his beloved. "I love you, I am nothing with you," he repeated before lowering his lips to the soft ones beneath and capturing them tenderly. Slowly, his hand moved downward till it reached the elf's slim waist; then it gradually slid lower, over where he could feel his spouse's elfhood begin to make itself known, and his hand lay there expectantly, tantalizingly.

With the softest of moans, Legolas opened his mouth and allowed Aragorn to taste him, feeling his own passion grow with the seductive movements of the man's tongue and lips. His slender fingers gripped the dark hair and molded themselves around the kingly head, drawing Aragorn deeper into the kiss. He savored the wild scent of the man and drank deeply of the honeyed kiss.

Before either could realize what was happening, the hands of Man and Elf began to shed each other of their clothes. Bathed in the soft candlelight, Legolas could not help trembling with new desire while Aragorn undressed him slowly and ran his fingers and tongue lovingly over every inch of the creamy elven skin, nipping and sucking gently till the elf was moaning with unbridled desire. When his mouth reached Legolas' hardened shaft, Aragorn lifted his head to look at his beloved and found the beautiful creature's hands gripping the bed linen helplessly.

"Estel," the elf sighed. "Estel… have mercy," he begged, his fingers trying to grasp Aragorn's hair.

Smiling, the man gripped the elf's hips and closed his mouth eagerly over the pearly rod, enjoying the feel of wrapping his tongue around it and sucking on it. A gasp broke from Legolas' lips, and his growing moans fed the man's own passion. Taking the elven shaft almost into his throat, Aragorn sucked on it again and again like the most succulent delicacy in the world, trying to sate his hunger and failing. He felt his own manhood grow painfully hard and he shivered from the agony of not being able to satisfy it yet.

Abruptly, he stopped his ministrations on Legolas' leaking rod, earning a cry of frustration from the elf. Grinning wickedly, he moved upwards along Legolas' body till they were face to face. He looked down at the over-bright, desire-filled and pleading eyes, and smiled teasingly.

"Estel…" the elf begged. "What are you doing?"

Prolonging the torture of the elf and controlling his own body that was in truth bursting with the desire to love the being beneath it, Aragorn wrapped strands of Legolas' golden hair around the fingers of one hand, while the other reached downwards, trailing over the elven body with deliberate, maddening slowness till the fingers reached the opening they sought. Gently, and temptingly, they traced the rim of the orifice, teasing it.

"I like you here, Le'las," he said sultrily. "I like you…. here… and here…. and here," he echoed as his fingers continued to touch Legolas in various delicious places. Staring into Legolas' eyes, Aragorn became lost in the blue pools of liquid passion, and with a groan he slammed his lips once more onto the elf's, kissing him till it seemed the earth moved.

Somehow, the man's hand was able to reach for the jar of fragrant oil someone had thoughtfully left beside the bed. Blindly, he unscrewed the top and coated his fingers generously. Almost delirious with passion now, Aragorn reached once more for the opening to that most secret and private of places in his beloved's body, and inserted his fingers to prepare it for the act of achieving union that both of them knew was to come. Squirming, Legolas burned with both initial discomfort and anticipation.

Then, when he felt his elf was ready to receive him, Aragorn thought about that night in Imladris many, many years ago when he had been but a child demanding that Legolas dance with him, and he recalled the words he had used then to express his desire. "Grant Estel his 'zire," he had said then, and he whispered them now into the elven ear, making Legolas shudder with willing surrender. "Grant your Estel his greatest 'zire," he said with all sincerity.

The elf caressed the strong shoulders above him and smiled, looking deeply into the eyes of his life partner. It seemed to him that a song – one that had been with him a long, long time ago when he had been safe and warm in his _naneth_'s womb – came unbidden into his mind, urging him to find completion. "Take your 'zire, my Estel, my love," he said. "Take me, and my body, and my heart, and all of me."

Fired by those words, and without wasting another moment, Aragorn captured Legolas' lips once more and took his 'zire' at the same time, sheathing himself quickly and fully into Legolas' pliant body even as his tongue plunged itself into the welcoming mouth. Legolas wrapped his long legs around the man's waist and gave himself up to their union. Sensuously, Aragorn tasted his elf both ways at once, stroking and thrusting and withdrawing and stroking and thrusting and withdrawing, skin to skin and flesh against flesh, slowly at first, then faster and faster and more feverishly, till the elf was on fire, screaming into the man's mouth, weeping from the sheer and utter pleasure of the joining. Helplessly, the elven fingers dug into the man's muscles as Aragorn rocked him, and the elf felt himself drowning in a pool of passion and ecstasy, the depths of which he could no longer fathom. On and on they rode upon strong waves of incredible pleasure, till all at once, they peaked in an explosion of wild colors, screaming names into each other's mouths, and soaring to a plane of existence neither had reached before.

The lovers remained on that plane for a long, long time, colors swirling about them, tossed about in their turbulent storm of passion and pleasure. The moments stretched out before they fell slowly back into Middle-earth again, and became once again aware of their hot, sated bodies. They lay side by side, their eyes closed and their hands clasped in affection, unable to do much more than breathe, and watch the dancing shadows on the walls, and listen to the sound of their breathing.

"Estel," Legolas said at last, his cheeks still flushed and wet with tears from the intensity of their union.

"Mmmm," Aragorn murmured contentedly, opening his eyes lazily and turning just a degree toward Legolas to give the elf a smile. "Yes, my heart?"

Legolas continued to look up at the ceiling of his room. "I first knew you as a child, Estel," he said, his voice a mixture of admiration, astonishment and love. "But I have found out tonight…. that… that… oh Estel, you are no longer little!"

Aragorn burst out laughing at the heartfelt confession. "Is that a compliment, my love?" he asked, reaching to stroke the elf's face tenderly, earning a smile in return. His eyes softened immeasurably at the sight of the beautiful being who was now his mate in every way. "Yes, how far we have come since that day, _meleth_," he whispered. "Who would have thought how this would all end, as it has tonight? I pray we find such joy every night for the rest of our lives."

Legolas turned to him and nodded, his eyes shining. "It has ended as we hoped it would, _meleth_," he concurred happily. "And now let us see if it has indeed in _every_ way, my sweet, sweet _adan_."

Aragorn narrowed his eyes slightly. "What do you mean?"

The elf kept his eyes fastened on the puzzled man before him, but his fingers groped for something under his pillow and pulled it out a flourish. He raised his upper body and twisted himself so that he was propped on his elbows, while his hands deftly removed an object from the small pouch he had retrieved. As the fascinated man watched, Legolas held out his palm. On it lay the two halves of the green stone that belonged to him and Aragorn – except that they were no longer two halves.

"See how they have joined?" the elf said in a hushed voice, studying the green stone, now fused as one piece. As they looked at it, it grew warm in the elf's palm, and flecks of light appeared in it and made it seem alive. Then it seemed to Legolas that the song played once more in his heart and ears, and the look of awe in Aragorn's eyes told him that his soul mate had heard it as well.

Legolas' eyes shone with tears as he remembered his mother. Lovingly, he put the stone away, and before Aragorn knew what was happening, the elf had lain himself on top of the man and held his hands fast against the bed.

"My turn now to mark you and to make you mine," he said laughingly, kissing the nose of the speechless king trapped beneath him. Then he whispered into the ear of the one he had wed for life: "My heart has been unbroken, Estel, and when I claim your body, I will be – in every way – complete."

So for the rest of the night, the elf went on to do just that.

* * *

**THE END**

******_Please do leave a review if you enjoyed the story, especially __if you're logging in to mark this as a Favorite__. That's all writers ask in return for the hard work we put in free of charge. _I respond to ALL signed reviews submitted even years after the story has been posted.**

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_I don't know when I'll be writing another story, but hope to see you again when I do. Till then!_


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